By Night One Way, By Day Another
by hanny spoon
Summary: A collection of one-shots surrounding Fiona and her family dealing with the curse.
1. A Child's Secret

_A/N: Fiona's background and childhood are easily the most fascinating part of the series to me. I doubt we'll ever get any insight in film, even with this mysterious reboot, so here's my take on it._

 _The stories in this will jump around the timeline, just to keep you on your toes._

 _. . ._

* * *

 **A Child's Secret**

Fiona had a secret. She had a big secret. A secret she would get in a lot of trouble for sharing. But also a secret she hated to keep. And she'd kept it for _years_ already. The child stared at the pattern of the picnic blanket she was sat upon. She just didn't _understand_ why she had to keep it. Her parents would dutifully tell her that it was because others wouldn't understand, they wouldn't see that it was still her, they would see her as ugly, grotesque, and terrifying. She didn't want to be seen that way by people, for she was a princess, a beautiful princess at that. She understood that much. She knew that maybe _some_ people wouldn't understand. But her friends knew who she was. They understood other things. She looked back up to the girl who was sharing.

"I can speak to animals," Snow boasted, "They come to me when I sing."

The children around her cooed in awe at the 'secret'. Fiona looked down again, that was a _nice_ secret. She'd tried singing to animals before and they'd only run away. A scowl flashed across the princess's dainty features. It was clearly the _ogre_ inside of her, it scared them, they could sense it. Animals _couldn't_ understand. Her friends weren't _animals_.

"My mother wants me to grow my hair out, but I don't want to," Rapunzel looked over both shoulders, "So I do this," the child grasped a lock of golden hair from behind her ear, twisted it around a finger and pulled. The children, even Fiona, gasped as the hair came loose from her head.

The girls sat around her shrieked as Rapunzel flicked the hair out of her hands onto the blanket they were sat upon. Fiona looked back and forth between the girl and the lock of blonde hair.

"Doesn't that _hurt_ Rapunzel?" Beauty asked.

"Just a little," the child seemed proud.

That _wasn't_ such a nice secret, Fiona deemed it as less than pleasant. She could see the skin flakes stuck to the roots of the hair. She picked up the hair from the blanket, looking closer.

" _Ew!_ Fiona, put that down, that's _disgusting!_ " her friends shouted at her.

Fiona's eyes widened, throwing the lock of hair onto the grass. She crossed her brow, "I'm _not_ disgusting!" she defended herself. She wasn't, not in the daytime.

"What's your secret, Fiona?" they all peered questioningly at her.

Fiona tried to think of a different secret, a _smaller_ secret. She would sneak out into the hallway and into a different room when the sun had set sometimes. Sometimes she would hide until after sunset to avoid a bath. Though, the princess realised that these secrets didn't make sense, not without her _big_ one.

" _Hurry_."

Her thoughts were brought back to their understanding. She liked her friends, and she was sure they liked her. She could _trust_ them. They told her things, well, at least they would tell the group. None of them confided in _her_ exactly, but that was because she couldn't go to parties, or anything that went past sundown. Maybe they could know why. Maybe if they knew why, they would confide in her more. Maybe they would like her more if they _could_ understand.

"I..." she paused, her friends stared at her, " _At night..._ " she paused again, unsure of whether to continue. Her hands grew clammy, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Are you too _scared_ to tell us your secret?" Rapunzel asked her, she snickered a little, mocking.

Fiona blinked at them, she took a breath, indignant, "I'll tell you. But it's a _big_ secret. That you _must_ keep a secret too," a smile slipped across her face. Excitement filled her body as they all leaned in closer. "At night..." Fiona fleetingly paused again, "At night I turn into an _ogre_ ," she whispered at them.

They all stared at her blankly. The nerves set in, the smile disappearing from her face.

" _What?_ "

"I-I-" panic filled the young princess's body, "It's why I can't come out at night, or go to slumber parties," she tried to hurriedly explain herself, "I'm not allowed, because I turn-"

"You turn into an _ogre?_ " Snow was loud. Fiona shushed her frantically.

Beauty snorted, laughing, joined by Rapunzel. Fiona looked between them all, brow creasing.

"Don't be _silly_ ," Rapunzel chastised her, "We want a _real_ secret. Why can't you come to slumber parties _really?_ "

"I _am_ telling the truth," Fiona insisted, "I turn into an ogre at sunset and back to myself at sunrise, a witch cursed me when I was a little girl," she clasped her sweaty hands together, fiddling with her fingers. She surely thought they'd understand.

"But we're _children_ , witches don't curse _children_. They curse _babies_ ," Beauty corrected her.

"When we get _older_ a witch might curse us because we're princesses," Snow stated, matter of factly, "Why would a witch curse you _now?_ " she spoke accusingly, "And _why_ an ogre?"

Fiona shrugged silently, she looked down to the blanket.

"I think Fiona _wants_ to be an ogre," Beauty snickered.

" _What?_ " Fiona's head snapped up.

The group laughed.

"Fiona wants to be a _smelly ogre!_ "

Tears burned in the child's eyes, she blinked them back, "I _do not_ want to be an ogre," she folded her arms, defending herself.

"So _why_ would you tell us that?" they laughed harder.

Fiona watched them all laughing, she swallowed down the knot in her throat. She shrugged, looking back down to the blanket. She wanted to run away and hide. She was so _sure_ they would listen and understand. Maybe her parents were right.

"Tell us a _real_ secret!" they all looked at her once more, grins on their faces.

Fiona frowned, " _No_ ," she spoke bluntly. She turned away from them, arms tightly folded.

"Oh no, Fiona's _angry_ ," Snow mocked her.

"She's being like an _ogre_ ," Rapunzel added.

"I _am not!_ " Fiona shouted at them. They laughed in response. She stood, suddenly, and stormed off.

Fiona hurried away from them, hunching her shoulders. The tears spilled over her cheeks, she roughly wiped them away and continued until she got safely inside the castle walls. People within the castle greeted her and asked her what was wrong as she passed them, she ignored them all. No one would _ever_ understand what was truly wrong. She didn't see the point in explaining herself.

She finally reached her bedroom. Slamming the door behind her, she stormed over to the window, looking out at her friends sat on the grass. They were laughing with each other, looking at Beauty for her secret. Fiona didn't know what was worse, that they didn't believe her and laughed at her, or that they didn't care and had moved on already. She wished they would go home, that they wouldn't always come to her gardens to play, that her mother wouldn't insist she be polite and go play with them. She liked them when they played with her and were _fair_. But when they picked on her or had secrets from her because she couldn't attend parties, that _wasn't_ fair. And it _wasn't_ her fault either.

"Fiona?" her mother's voice was in her doorway.

Fiona folded her arms again, she didn't respond, staring intently out the window.

"Darling? What happened?" her mother came closer.

Fiona pressed her head against the cool window. She couldn't tell her mom that she told her secret. She'd be in a lot of trouble, that she knew for sure, especially if her father found out. She remained silent.

"Did something happen?" her mother continued to enquire.

"Leave me alone," she mumbled in response.

"Fiona, I-" her mom paused, there was a long-drawn silence before she heard her step away, "That might be best," her mother resigned. She quietly left the room, though Fiona was aware of her hovering in the doorway. The princess sat obstinately where she was, refusing to turn around.

Finally, the door was closed. Fiona released the tense way she held her posture. She turned, looking at the door, her eyes filling with tears. It wasn't long ago that her mother would sit with her and wipe her tears despite her being angry. She liked it that way. Things were suddenly different now. Giving a last look to her friends, she carefully stood. She walked closer to the closed door, a tear spilled over her cheek. Fiona quietly approached the door, listening. She hadn't heard her mother walk away down the hall, she could vaguely hear her presence, still there outside the door. The princess backed away a couple of steps and sniffed loudly. She waited; _nothing_. Her brow creased, she let out a sob, perhaps a little louder than natural. She waited again. Her mother didn't re-enter the room. More tears fell over her cheeks. She listened at the door, her mother hadn't left, she was sure of it. But she _still_ didn't come in. Fiona's face creased up, she backed away from the door once again, staring at it. Silently counting the seconds.

" _Mom?_ " she dared whisper, sniffing again.

Her eyes didn't leave the door until she heard her mother's footsteps walking away. The princess frowned, letting out another sob, a genuine one. She finally retreated to her bed. She threw herself upon it, burying her face into the pillows.

* * *

. . .

I'm excited to start posting these! Now I've uploaded one, I've got to actually start fully finishing them. The woes of having a million different unfinished stories.

Thank you for reading! I hope you like :)


	2. The Fix

It was far later than Lillian ever dared stay awake, though exhaustion was the last thing the queen was feeling despite the many late nights she'd endured that week. They'd spent many nights meeting with people in secret, paying them inordinate amounts of gold only to be disappointed and send them off with even more to keep them quiet. Eventually her husband had admitted he knew of a solution. The solution that they eagerly awaited. They silently crossed the empty hallway. They had requested no one enter this part of the castle after the sun went down, guards were posted in all entrances, doors and windows locked tight and curtains firmly closed.

Lillian gently opened the door to her young daughter's room. There was a single candle lit beside her, casting a glow on her face. As they entered the Fairy Godmother gasped at the sight of the sleeping child. Creasing her features, the queen looked hesitantly at their guest, though her husband only seemed to be glaring at her.

"My goodness, the poor little thing," the fairy cooed, rushing over to the child's bedside, "An _ogre_ ," she transferred her gaze to the couple.

"Yes," Harold's voice was blunt.

"Uh- Do not be afraid of her," the queen interjected quietly, "She won't harm you, the monster is only her exterior, we do not believe it has affected her brain."

"Of course," the godmother wasn't fazed by the child, "She's... she's..." she beheld the sight, crossing her brow for a moment, "sleeping so peacefully," she concluded.

Lillian watched their guest staring at her daughter, though after a period of silence she looked back to her husband. With their previous guests he had been very vocal, hot on their heels most of the time, following their every move like a lost puppy. But this time, he stood further away, only transferring his glare from the fairy to their daughter and back again. It set the queen at great unease.

"We would be incredibly grateful if you could reverse the spell, or fix it somehow," Lillian spoke for her husband.

The fairy nodded at her, concern spread over her face. Lillian looked back to Harold. He was acting strangely. She wondered if she should feel differently too. He finally met her gaze, his features softening somewhat. He slowly approached her, putting an arm around her. Lillian held onto him, looking to their child once more.

"Are you sure she's trustworthy?" the queen whispered, prying into his thoughts.

Harold hesitated, "Y-yes," he seemed defeated.

She gave him an odd look, he only returned her with a smile that was too forced, his eyes still sad. It struck the queen as incredibly strange that he kept the magic user a secret until everyone else failed. Lillian feared he was keeping a bigger secret from her. She fixed her attention on the person in question. The fairy was looking closely at her daughter, benevolent concern unwavering from her face. The queen couldn't see anything harmful about her, perhaps she'd find out the manner that affected her husband so much in time.

Lillian left Harold's grasp and wandered over to the bed. She gently placed a hand on her daughter's cheek, smiling at her softly for a moment. "She's not suffering when she's like this, is she?" the queen asked the question she was dreading the answer to.

"Of course not," the godmother reassured her, placing a hand comfortingly on her shoulder. Her bright pink lips parted into a smile. Lillian looked to her, there was something so strange about her. She claimed to be the answer they were looking for, after so many wise and renowned magic users had turned them down. But… she just didn't _look_ quite the part. Her makeup was overdone, a little _cakey_. Her blonde hair was swept up and looked a little _too_ stiff. The clothes she wore were bright and certainly when looked at from a distance would seem fancy, but close, Lillian could tell the opposite was true. She'd come out of nowhere, no one had ever heard of her before. She seemed awfully _new_.

"Can you do anything?" Lillian withheld her judgement. She reminded herself, being _new_ didn't make someone _bad_.

"I believe so," there was an odd twinkle in her eye, "Do we have space to discuss?" she looked down at the sleeping child, "We wouldn't want her to wake."

* * *

Harold dragged his heels into the lit room with the fairy and his wife. If anything, he'd have preferred to stay with his daughter, confess everything to her sleeping state and apologise profusely. He'd spent the week feeling sick and not sleeping. He tried his very best to ask of every powerful magic user he could find. Everyone but her. He realised people would find it an odd coincidence that she would be the _only_ person who could do anything. Half of him was very tempted to point this out and ruin her. It would be the comeuppance she deserved for what she did to his beautiful daughter. Though, she would only take him down with her. And that was _exactly_ what he deserved too. But a corrupt husband and father wasn't what his two loves deserved. He had to see it through, do everything the winged traitor asked of him, and help everything be fixed… for Fiona.

"Why this is wonderful..." the fairy godmother couldn't contain herself as the door was closed behind them. "A blessing upon this family!" she exclaimed, a grin spread over her face. Though this only confused Lillian further. "Your daughter has been gifted a fairy tale."

"Uh... What do you mean?" Lillian pried further.

"Of course, you have to take the opportunity first," the woman raised her eyebrows at the queen, "But, with my magic I can twist this curse into a positive."

"You're removing the curse?" Harold was suddenly hopeful.

"No-no, of course, I _can't_ do that, but I can add something to... _soften_ it," she raised her eyebrows at them. Lillian prompted her once more, as she wanted. "I can change it so the curse is _broken_ by a kiss." Lillian suddenly looked at him, he knew why. Their own fairy tale involved a magical kiss. Her interest had been truly captured. Of course, his wife had no idea that the fairy godmother _also_ knew why she was convinced by that detail.

"When can you add this?" his wife was eager.

"Oh, soon, _soon!_ " she laughed, "But we have so much to discuss first. Future prospects, maximising the impact of this fairy tale, and of course my payment."

"Oh… well we can offer you as much gold as you-"

"No, I only require a small _deposit_ ," she laughed lightly, "Endorsement is what I will really need from you; glowing reviews and recommendations. My business will bring me gold, I just need a little help spreading the word," she smiled sweetly.

Lillian looked to him once more. Typically, he was the one discussing these matters. He kept his mouth closed. He didn't want to be the one discussing anything with the person before them. Lillian was in a far better position to bargain with her. He simply, raised a brow at her. Silently encouraging her to act on her own thoughts.

His wife looked back at their guest, "Of course," she nodded, "Anything. But, how exactly will this addition to the curse work?"

"In one year you shall send dear Princess Fiona away to a tower, _the_ _highest room in the tallest tower_ , no less, guarded by a fire breathing dragon, there to await the kiss of her handsome-"

" _No_ ," was the firm reply from his wife.

The Fairy Godmother stopped in her tracks, blinking at her sudden change in tone, "W-What did you say?"

"In one year, she will only be seven," Lillian pointed out possibly the most alarming element to the tale.

"Yes," he agreed, "That's preposterous. You can't send a _child_ away like that."

The godmother's shocked visage faded quickly, she laughed, "Oh don't worry, I have it all calculated out. One year will be enough time to advance her reading skills to a high level, increase her etiquette and speech. The rest will come from books," she explained, "No prince will like a princess who is _too_ educated anyway."

Lillian's face remained deadpan, "I do not care for your calculations," she stated, "My daughter will not leave for a tower in one year. My daughter will stay with me, her mother, until she is of appropriate age. If you continue to insist then I'm afraid our dealings will have to come to a close, you will not see my daughter again, you will not get the glowing review you so desire, and you will not see any successful business in this kingdom."

Harold cringed at his wife's stern words. Of course, he was happy about them, he agreed with her wholeheartedly. But the look the fairy godmother gave her was one that terrified him. The fairy transferred her gaze to him, it was expectant. He gulped. It was clear what she wanted. Perhaps he could convince Lillian, he was her husband after all. But- he thought back to his daughter, seven years old and being guarded by a dragon. He pulled courage from somewhere he thought non-existent… and gave her a single nod.

The godmother's expression soured a little before she took a breath and brightened again. As much power as she had over him, she had none over Lillian.

"Okay, let's rethink shall we. How about you hear my proposal and then we can _come to an agreement_ on an _appropriate_ age, hm?"

Lillian hesitated, "The proposal is that she is away, people will be challenged to win her hand, right?"

"Correct."

"So she will have to be of marriage and childbearing age," his wife then looked to him, "Eighteen," she confirmed.

The Fairy Godmother's expression dropped a little again, "Your highness, I can assure you, your daughter will not be rescued until she is of marrying age," she spoke cooly.

Lillian's stance didn't change.

"A compromise?" the fairy offered, "I know no one else has been able to adjust this curse on the princess. I _can_. If we cannot find a deal we both accept, then I'm afraid she will be this way forever," her words were sickly sweet. It put a rock at the bottom of his stomach. "You would like Fiona to be of childbearing age… then why not when she _comes_ of age."

Barely knowing what that even meant, Harold looked at his wife. Her gaze trailed to the ground. She finally locked eyes with him, her mouth twitching into a small smile, "She would be approximately thirteen," she explained gently.

Harold took a breath, it was young, but it was so far off he couldn't even begin to imagine what his daughter would be like at that age.

Lillian looked up, fight still left in her, "If she won't be rescued until she is of marrying age, then may I ask _why_ she must be sent so young? It is important that she finishes her education, thirteen is no age for isolation…"

The Fairy Godmother's eyes softened, she smiled sadly, "It's hard to accept, you're being swayed by your motherly emotions. The decision is better rested in your hus-"

"Would you send _your_ child to a tower so young, Fairy Godmother?" something snapped within his wife.

The fairy glared at her, for just a moment, before her features lightened again, "Of course," she laughed, "If it was necessary, yes," she began floating around the room, "In the storybooks the struggle doesn't simply last for two weeks now, does it? We're creating a fairy tale for your daughter and it will be a beautiful one. We put her in the tower while she is young. By the time she is of perfect marrying age, the few years will be of great value to her potential rescuers. A lot will come, one will win. And when they do, Princess Fiona will feel accomplished having waited so long for her Prince Charming, you see? The outcome, the freedom, will taste much sweeter to her. All she has to do is spend a few years in a beautiful tower room with all of the books she would ever need."

Lillian looked to him with a sad gaze. The godmother had her hooked with the compromise. Perhaps that had been the plan all along, shoot for more than you think the customer will accept and come to an _agreement_ on the intended deal. She knew how to get her own way after all. But Harold had been watching her disappointment and annoyance, perhaps she was more desperate than he thought. Still, he knew he had no argument, and it seemed his wife was about to give in. In only a handful of years they would be wishing their daughter goodbye, so his enemy's son could break the curse his mother placed upon her.

* * *

. . .

 _A/N: I fear I've picked a really bad time to start uploading these because I'm so busy right now. I'm just uploading the ones I have finished. I have one that explains some of the more ?mysterious? parts of this in the works. Though, I'm sure everyone knows the lore or fan theory behind the curse. I hope you liked :) And thank you for the reviews and favourites for the last one, that surprised me, you guys are so encouraging!_


	3. Names

Fiona giggled at her father's story telling. She was sat upon his lap, looking at the book he held in front of her. Fiona's favourite time of day was after dinner, in the brief period of time they had before sunset. On a typical day it meant her parents were free from their duties and she was out of her lessons. They often spent the time in a particular sitting room, the fire lit in front of them. There were shelves of books, a few of which belonged to her. She would practice sitting on the rug in front of them, reading aloud. However, some days were lucky and they would read to her.

"The handsome prince fought the monster, winning and gaining the princess's hand…"

"How handsome is the prince, daddy?" Fiona giggled again, leaning back against him, looking up to his face.

"Oh very handsome, I'm sure," he smiled at her, "Much more handsome than me."

"But you're a _king_."

He laughed at her, "You're right, kings don't need to be handsome, eh?"

"No. They need to be wise. Like you!"

"Well, in any case, the prince isn't nearly as handsome as the princess is beautiful," his eyes lifted a little, to look towards his wife. She was sitting in her chair next to them, distracted by the letters she was engrossed in. Though she briefly looked up to meet his gaze and give him a small smile.

Fiona ignored the display of affection, instead looking back to the book; much more _important_ matters on her mind, "But I want _my_ prince to be so _so_ handsome."

"He will be, I shall accept nothing less, my dear," he chuckled, "But compared to how beautiful you are…" he paused, smiling at her, "Well, there's no contest," he tugged playfully at one of her braids, almost making her tiara slip.

"Daddy, stop," she laughed, making sure her crown stayed in place. She turned the page.

" _Harold…_ "

The pair looked up to the queen, letter in hand.

"We have another nephew," she spoke simply, though she had a strange look set upon her face. Fiona looked between her parents.

"I didn't know one of your sisters was expecting," her father commented. She could feel him shifting slightly. The child tried to hide a smirk, her father wasn't fond of her many aunts. Whenever they visited he would try and busy himself. Her mother would always roll her eyes and comment about it to her.

"No, it's your brother," the queen smiled, raising her brow.

Fiona looked instinctively to her father's face. She didn't know what her uncle did, but she knew her dad wasn't happy with him. This was something Harold wasn't quiet about at all.

"Well," he scoffed a little, "It would've been nice to be told they were expecting."

"They're telling us now," Lillian countered his hostility, "Maybe this is a peace offering. You both have children now."

"Uther? Thinking of anyone but himself? Lillian, I can hardly believe that."

Fiona hopped off of her father's lap and wandered to her mother. She looked at the beautiful script the letter was written in, squinting at the writing. " _Arthur_ ," she read to herself. Fiona had many cousins on her mother's side. She occasionally saw them, they just all lived so far away. Her aunts and uncles would always make jokes about the journey and her kingdom's name. She would politely laugh at them, like her mother did. She was told that they were too distant to tell her secret to, as the only times she could see them was when they visited her. But her uncle wasn't so far away, no matter how much her father predicted he would leave. Her eyes lit up, perhaps this cousin would finally be someone she could tell.

"When are we going to see the baby?" Fiona interrupted her parents' conversation that she had lost track of.

They both looked at her blankly.

"I suppose we should give our congratulations in person," her mother reasoned with the idea.

"Of course not," Harold waved them off, "Why would we _want_ to do _that?_ "

"I want to meet my cousin!" Fiona chirped at him, leaning against her mother over the arm of her chair.

Her father hummed at her, he looked down to the open book that still sat in his lap. She kept her attention on her mother. If there was anyone who could convince him, it was her. Fiona waited patiently, as Lillian read more of the letter. Finally, the queen lowered what she was reading and took a breath,

"If we're to see the baby, we need to go to them," she spoke hesitantly. Both of Fiona's parents looked at her. She frowned.

"But _I_ want to see the baby," she moaned at them. She knew exactly what it meant.

"Darling, we wouldn't have enough daylight to get there and back… it would be an overnight stay," her mother pointed it out.

"Why can't we invite them here?" Harold was defensive. Fiona looked to her mother questioningly, deciding that maybe her father's side was the better of the two after all.

Throwing a glance at Fiona, Lillian lowered her voice a little, "She's been taken sick, she can't travel."

Fiona once again looked between her parents, wide eyed. Part of her didn't understand. Her _uncle_ could bring the baby by _himself_. Though, the princess had never left the kingdom, perhaps this was finally her chance. She had met _all_ of her cousins on her mother's side. If her newest cousin couldn't come to visit-

"That means we _have_ to go there," Fiona interrupted the silence, allowing her lips to curve into a smile.

" _No_ ," her father wiped the smile off of her face, "Of course it doesn't mean that."

"Then… how will I meet my cousin?" she crossed her brow.

"We'll have to wait for them to visit us," came her father's quick reply.

"But-but what if they don't?" Fiona's happiness was dampened. She looked between them again. Lillian had always told her about the importance of family. _Surely_ she wasn't only referring to her own sisters. That would be unfair, the child deemed.

"Then you won't meet him," Harold's voice was sharp. His sighed resoundingly, eyes falling to the pages that were still open. "Now, let's finish the story, Fiona," he sounded worn down.

Though Fiona wasn't quite ready for the debate to end. She looked back at her mother, frowning, waiting for her to speak to him, to tell him he was being unreasonable.

"Fiona," she addressed the child instead, "You _know_ you can't be anywhere but your room-"

"I can _hide!_ " she interrupted her mother, "I promise I can!"

Lillian glanced over to Harold. Fiona's frustration only heightened in the silence between them. They didn't want to answer her. They _never_ wanted to answer her. But she just _didn't_ understand.

"What's the _point_ in having a cousin if I can't even _meet_ him?" her emotions bubbled over, whining at them. Her rose-coloured visions of the future melting away.

She followed her father's gaze out the window, the sky starting to turn shades of pink. It was their excuse for everything. Whenever something happened before sundown, they'd always just send her to bed. Something within the child snapped-

" _No!_ " she spoke before they could, drawing the curtains herself so they couldn't see, "I'm _not_ going to bed!" Tears prickled her eyes, she roughly wiped them away.

"Fiona, dear, let's not do this again," Lillian tried to reason with her.

"It's not _fair!_ " she stomped a foot, ignoring her mother entirely, "I'm not allowed to do _anything!_ " her voice was rising. "I hide every night _here!_ I can hide every night _there!_ I want to _go!_ "

Harold snapped the book closed, making her jump a little, "Fiona, you _cannot_ leave the kingdom because you _cannot_ be away overnight!" he rose his voice at her, "Now... Now... You're behaving like an _ogre_ , stop!"

The scolded child looked down, the wind of her argument taken out of her. She didn't want to act like an ogre. She wanted to act as little like an ogre as possible. But she couldn't help it. It made her angry and she couldn't control it, just like she couldn't control the transformations twice a day.

"Don't ask about this again," her father had the final word, face stern.

Fiona sat where she stood. She didn't want to go to bed early, she _already_ went to bed early enough. She sniffed, a tear rolling down her cheek as she watched her father place the book on the table beside him, indicating the pleasant time they had was over. She folded her arms, she ruined it. Well, not she, the _ogre_ inside of her ruined it. As much as she hated to admit it and would fight her parents on the fact, she _did_ understand what they meant when they said it came out of her early sometimes. But it confused her… She stood, her parents glancing at her, though she only wandered over to the window, sitting against the glass, closing the curtains behind her. For when she was shut away for the night in her room, she would never be angry, or shout, like they told her ogres did. Often, if she had been angry before bed, she was only _sad_ after the transformation took place. Then again, she didn't really have anyone to be mad at once the sun went down and everyone left her alone. She looked at the coloured sky, frowning, she hated the sunset.

"The baby's name is Arthur," she heard her mother begin to speak softly once again to her father.

"Well, at least he's given his child a good name."

"Yes, it means strong and courageous, I believe."

"A fine name for a boy, a shame his father couldn't be more so."

Finally, after a moment of quiet contemplation - scowling at the sunset - the child peeked her head out from the curtains, her interest tentatively captured, "What does my name mean?" she asked. She looked to her parents curiously, eyes still shining a little from the tears.

Lillian smiled at her, "The name Fiona means fair and pure, darling. It's why we chose it for you. The name you give your child can be the wish you grant upon them," she explained gently, the sensitivity from before melting away.

Fiona paused in thought for a moment. She didn't even understand what purity was and things _certainly_ didn't seem fair to her. If things were _fair_ then perhaps she'd be _happier_ and definitely not _cursed_. It appeared to the child that her parents had named her incorrectly. She certainly knew what she would have preferred instead. "What's a name that means being happy?" she asked innocently, oblivious to the brief looks of pain her parents gave her.

"We can certainly go and find out," Lillian was quick to stand, glancing to gap in the curtains, as she always did, "Would you like to research that in your room before you go to sleep?"

"Yes," Fiona wiped her eyes again, leaving her distress by the window. "I want it to be a _girl_ name. I want to have a daughter."

. . .

* * *

 _The name_ _ **Felicia**_ _derives from the Latin adjective felix, meaning "happy", though in the neuter plural form_ _ **felicia**_ _it literally means "happy things" and often occurred in the phrase tempora_ _ **felicia**_ _, "happy times"._

-Wikipedia :)


	4. The Past

"Here," Lillian raised her eyebrows at a photo she held, "This is your mother when she was just a little younger than you," she placed it in front of her three grandchildren, on the other side of the table she was sitting at with them. Their faces lit up as they saw it. It was one of the last photos of Fiona before she disappeared to the tower. It was the photo Lillian had treasured the very most while her daughter was away.

Lillian had shown them Fiona's childhood photos before, when they were young. They had been too young to really appreciate them. Now, at fourteen years old, already standing as tall as her, she figured they were grown up enough to see it all again.

The woman sat back and watched them for a moment. They were too engrossed to notice her gaze change. She only got to see them a few times a year and she treasured every second of it. They were growing so quickly, _too_ quickly, Lillian would have given anything to make them stop. Except… Felicia looked just like Fiona and they were at the age where Lillian had missed her own daughter growing up. She was selfishly a little excited to see her granddaughter get older, to gage what Fiona looked like through her teen years. Though, Felicia wasn't _exactly_ like Fiona in other ways. Even as an ogre, Fiona's royal upbringing was noticeable in the neat way she styled her hair and the dresses she chose to wear. Felicia's long hair was left down, roughly pinned up at one side. The faded pink dress had frayed edges and was draped with a rough, unbuttoned, brown cardigan. Lillian could see she had been practicing embroidery on the bottom of the cardigan, little uneven swirls and stars filled one edge.

Though the boys had more of their father in them, they still facially resembled Fiona a lot. Farkle had thick hair that matched his mother and sister's. Though short, looking down at the photos it often fell in his face - scooping his hair back had almost become a subconscious habit of his. He had a worn, patched, blue tunic, the sleeves creeping up his wrists as he grew faster than his siblings, taller than both of them already. Fergus had his father's brown hair, recognisable to Lillian only through that one terrible day they experienced many years ago. Though, Lillian couldn't imagine he would have his hair very long, what with his father _and_ grandfather's genetics. Though, Fergus's attire wasn't patched or frayed like his siblings'. Still a little worn, his brown burlap tunic, partially covered in a lighter brown jacket, was held together well.

When they had visited the castle as younger children, Fiona had controlled their appearance, choosing to dress them in royal attire like she did herself. However, as they got older – as children do – her daughter gave up, and let them have their own way. After being grateful for Fiona's thoughtfulness, it surprised Lillian with how little their clothing choices bothered her. It brought the woman a sense of relief and joy in how they were allowed to express themselves, something she wished she had allowed with their mother.

"This is grandpa, right?" Fergus turned a photo at her, recapturing her attention.

Lillian adjusted her glasses-

"No… that's the one grandma was having an affair with," Farkle quipped quickly with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

Lillian chuckled at his humour. The colourless photo in question was one of herself and Harold, he had an arm around her waist, she was carrying a bundled-up baby Fiona. "Yes dear, that's your grandfather and I."

"You look so young, grandma," Felicia commented, meeting her gaze, smiling.

"I _was_ young," Lillian laughed, she took the photo from her grandson, "Goodness, such a long time ago." Her eyes drifted to the way her once delicate fingers wrinkled. She handed it back to him.

Fergus passed it on to Farkle who was looking quickly through a stack he'd picked up, carelessly passing them to his sister. Felicia's brow crossed, "You're mixing up the order, Farkle, _stop_ ," she accused of him.

He rose a smug eyebrow at her, "What order?"

"Yeah, Fel, they're all mixed up," Fergus confirmed the state of the photos, peering past his brother at her.

Farkle shook his head, chuckling, "Not _everything_ is my fault huh," he mumbled at her, before glancing quickly at his grandmother. They were often told not to fight in front of her.

Lillian hid a smirk, "No no, they're not in order anymore, the _three_ of you saw to that the last time I showed you."

They laughed, recalling the memory they'd probably forgotten they had. Though, Farkle only continued to flick through the photos faster, Fergus also watching them intently.

"Farkle, slow down!" Felicia insisted, taking the photos he'd dismissed away from him.

Fergus had his brow crossed as his brother tossed more to their sister. "Grandma, where are the photos of mom when she was an ogre?"

"Yeah, I wanna see if Felicia looks like dad _at all_ ," Farkle commented, elbowing her.

Lillian sucked in a slow breath as she realised her grandsons' plight, blinking at them, "Well… I'm afraid, there are none."

" _Oh_."

The smiles vanished from each of their faces, hands frozen, as they looked down at the photos in front of them.

Lillian wanted nothing more than for something sudden to happen, to move the focus onto something else. All the faulty explanations she had given to her daughter as a child came rushing back to her - she thought they were long gone. Events where long made up for with Fiona. Lillian never thought she would have to confront them again.

Farkle looked up, meeting her gaze. "Why?" It almost seemed challenging to her. Felicia immediately elbowed him, slipping him a glare.

Their awareness of the situation was far higher than she expected at their age. Lillian furrowed her brow, trying to get her thoughts into order.

"It's okay," Fergus tried to intervene quickly, "We know," he spoke simply.

"No, it's quite alright," she brushed off her grandson's diversion. She shifted a little in her seat, delicately taking off her glasses. "Your grandfather and I, we made some _mistakes_ with your mother."

They quietly watched her as she tried to collect herself. She owed them as much of an explanation as she did their mother. "We very much tried to pretend what happened to her at night didn't exist." Their faces seemed to grow apprehensive at the same time. She glanced down at the table, away from them. "You see, what we _thought_ would happen was that your mother would marry a human, become human forever and we wouldn't need to _acknowledge_ what happened in the past. Well… we thought that she would _appreciate_ there being no evidence of it." The triplets were silent as she paused. The sadness in their faces felt like a stab wound in her chest; the guilt she had felt for so many years, long gone, washed over her once again.

"Is that what _you_ wanted?" Fergus's voice was quiet and curious.

She took a breath, there was no use lying to them. "Yes," she nodded, "I very much wanted that at the time. But your mother taught me a lot, as have you. I know now the way we treated Fiona wasn't fair at all. It wasn't kind. And in turn, it isn't kind to you either." She closed her hands in her lap, "I feel terribly about it, and I hope you can forgive me."

They were quiet for a moment, it felt like forever. They were glancing at each other, none of them wanting to be the first to speak.

Felicia was the first to open her mouth, "Did you not like us?" she didn't meet Lillian's eye. It wasn't the forgiveness the grandmother had been hoping for. But it was a question with a much surer answer-

" _Never_ ," Lillian spoke with sudden resolve. "I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I love each of you so much. And I am _certain_ your grandfather would feel the same." They met her gaze once again. "I couldn't ever imagine hiding the three of you away," she allowed a small smile to slip across her face. "I'm grateful for the lessons your mother _and father_ have taught me. All things considered, I'm very happy about the way it all turned out."

"Really?" Farkle posed the scepticism.

"Well," she found herself speaking a little overexaggeratedly, like she did when they were younger, "the only thing I find myself unhappy about is that I don't get to see you each and every day."

They each seemed to explore her face with their eyes; looking for any evidence that she might be lying. There was none.

"We love you too," Felicia reached her hand across the table, Lillian took it. Her brothers didn't seem to disagree with the words she spoke for them.

Of course, it wasn't the _whole_ truth. She would rather have had her daughter choose humanity when the option was posed to her that one eventful night. It would have meant getting to keep her forever, with the grandchildren close by. Alas, her daughter chose otherwise. There was nothing she could do.

"I can assure you, Felicia looks _exactly_ like her mother did, she always has," she answered the question the photos couldn't answer, patting her granddaughter's hand.

"So we just need to look at old photos of Fel, and that's basically mom's missing photos too," Farkle accepted the lighter conversation topic.

Lillian smiled at him, "Precisely, just imagine she's here at the castle instead."

"And also wearing nicer clothes," Fergus laughed, looking to his sister, who shook her head rolling her eyes.

Well, there was something Lillian could - and _did_ \- do. She embraced and accepted every little thing the old habitual parts of her brain tried to reject, like their clothing choices, the way they slouched when they sat, how they didn't take on their royal training despite any consequences they had to endure when they were in public. There were so many little things she was always taught to never be accepting of - she wasn't with Fiona - it was challenging at times to work against it. However, over the years it surprised her with how freeing it felt to not care about any of it. It was a _happy_ feeling.

"Thank you for _accepting_ the past and my failures, my darlings. It means more than you know," she realised she had missed off the crucial part. Maybe they _didn't_ understand, much like she struggled to understand a lot, but they were willing to move past it. And that meant the world to her. Just as they did.

* * *

. . .

When I said I was jumping around the timeline, I meant it ;)

I hope you liked! Please leave a review :)


	5. Slain

The princess woke up, she could hear a battle going on from within the keep. She leapt out of bed and looked out of her window. The teen leant as far as she dared over the ledge. She could see flickers of flames and shadows of a sword being raised. She squealed in excitement; her prince was finally coming to save her! She _knew_ he was the one who would make it. Fiona knew she had to be fast, check her hair, her face, her breath, throw on her best dress and make sure she was perfect. She had practiced the routine many times over the years, she had it down to five minutes.

She twirled around in her room, unable to be still under the anticipation of the event. That's when she heard it – the agonised screech of a pained dragon. A grin spread over her face. She leaned out her window once more, waving her handkerchief, showing him that she did indeed know of his victory. The princess could barely restrain her excitement as she realised he would be climbing the stairs soon. She couldn't help but imagine what his arms would feel like, what his face would look like, what their kiss would be like! She twirled around her room a little more, as if in pretend dance with her prince. It wouldn't be long until she was free of her lonely tower.

It was almost an instant before she heard him at her door. Fiona paused in the middle of the room, her dress flowing around her. She tried to suppress her childish grin. He opened the door, slowly and carefully. All suppression of her feelings was lost. He was tall, with dark hair and bright eyes. He was rugged and yet gallant. He looked kind-hearted and yet fiercely brave. Most of all he was incredibly handsome. She beamed at him and he smiled back at her, a smile she had been envisioning since she was little.

He approached her. It was like the world was moving in slow motion. "Princess," he spoke in a deep smooth voice that made the young princess swoon.

"My Prince Charming," she curtsied at him.

Where she was sure he was amour-clad before, he was now adorned in the finest clothing; is tunic silk, and his robes the softest of velvets. She reached out and touched his chest as he grew nearer, she could feel how muscular he was. He stopped in front of her, she only stood as high as his shoulder. She giggled as they met each other's gaze, getting lost in his ocean blue eyes. Though, he suddenly furrowed his brow, looking at her strangely.

"What is it, kind prince?" she asked sweetly. She reached for his hand, but he recoiled away, scowling at her. "What's wrong?" she asked again. Concern flooded her body. She looked down at herself, to search for what troubled him. Her eyes widened as she realised the problem – she was not the beautiful princess he expected to see. Her gaze flew over to the window, the sky had grown dark. But – she didn't remember transforming. " _Wait-"_ she desperately looked back up to him, but it was too late.

" _Monster_ ," he growled at her, raising his sword.

The princess screamed, cowering as he swung it down at her-

Fiona gasped for air, eyes wide, sitting bolt upright in bed. She breathed heavily, feeling the sweat beading on her forehead. She looked frantically around her dim tower room - she was alone, as usual, though this did nothing to slow her racing heart. She laid back down, pressing her back firmly into the mattress, pulling her blanket over her. Her breathing was rapid and she struggled to regulate herself.

It was a dream. A silly dream. She squeezed her eyes closed. She just needed to go back to sleep, it was still the middle of the night after all. She exhaled slowly, roughly wiping at her forehead with the back of her hand. She'd had plenty of bad dreams over the years she'd spent in the tower, all in varying degrees of terribleness. She'd dealt with them just fine. It was only until she got rescued, after all. It surely wouldn't be much longer now, maybe another year, and then everything would be fine. She'd leave the nightmares behind with the tower, all for her happily ever after.

Her eyes flew open, it couldn't _hurt_ to indulge in a solution, could it?

It wasn't like she'd be getting any sleep with her mind so anxious. The situation was simple anyway. Perhaps if he couldn't see her clearly she could quickly explain herself.

The princess climbed out of bed, she looked around at the torches that remained lit every night - they signalled her whereabouts to any potential rescuer. Surely it would only help her if he got a little lost at night. She supposed it would be a little tricky to find the exact tallest tower from the bottom of the keep, and if someone didn't instinctively _know_ she would be in the highest room of the tallest tower, maybe they didn't deserve to rescue her in the first place. Besides, she didn't _need_ the light while she was sleeping anyway.

Fiona put out the torches, plunging the room into darkness, lit only by an eerie orange glow. It wasn't dark enough, she realised. She looked towards her mirror, only able to see her shadowy silhouette - it was large. Despite her hair, her protruding ears were just visible. She looked like even more of a monster. She hung her head, retreating back to the safety of her bed. She pulled the blankets over herself once more, rolling onto her side, facing the window. Perhaps she could ignore it - it was just a bad dream, she reminded herself once again. But situation sent coldness creeping up her spine. If she couldn't see the door she wouldn't be able to tell if someone decided to sneak into her room. They'd believe they were putting a monster out of its misery, after all. She turned, facing the door instead, staring at it. She took a breath and closed her eyes, it was _just_ a dream.

Except… what if it _wasn't_ just a dream? What if this _became_ a reality? Her eyes flew open again, she anxiously sat up, hugging her knees. It would be easy, so easy… all it would take is for a rescuer to come at night… not even at night, in the evening past sunset, or early in the morning, just before the sun broke the horizon. It wasn't like people would stop to make camp just because the sun went down if they had indeed travelled for many days and nights like her parents said they would.

She had to do _something_ … prevent them from getting into her room at night. She could perhaps tell them to come back once the sun had risen, surely they'd understand. Staring at the door she realised she could block it – barricade it and do so every night. She slid out of bed and looked around the room. She lifted her vanity, placing it against the door, but it was so light it'd be moved easily. Finally, her eyes found the bed. That would be heavy enough to not let the door budge. But… her bed was placed on an elevated part of the floor. And it was _heavy_. Though, she looked at her hands, she was an ogre now. She just needed to wake up before sunrise, each morning, and lift the bed back into place. She could do that… _maybe_ …

Fiona took hold of one of the bedposts at the foot of her bed and pulled it towards her. She heard the sudden collapse of a stack of books that was stored under it. She walked around to the back of her bed, where the opening was and painstakingly dragged everything out from under there. Books, boxes, blankets, old toys, her chamber pot… dumping it all wherever she had room.

Resuming her plight, she returned to her original position, tugging it towards her. It wasn't as heavy as she imagined it to be, it almost made her smile. She pulled on it again, the wood scraping against the stone floor. She took one step down, pulling the bed with her. She took another step. She pulled the bed downwards, perhaps if it would slide, it would help her. Except, her eyes opened wide as the bed did indeed begin to slide towards her. She caught it, stumbling backwards, the curtains that surrounded the piece of furniture falling onto her, obscuring her vision. The whole bed tilted on the angle - leaning against her - was definitely as heavy as she imagined. She was suddenly scared to take more steps backwards, the fear of falling back and it landing on her kept her frozen. If she died as an ogre, would her form even switch back? She suddenly realised she had a new fear to dwell on later. Though, that indeed was for later, her current fear was taking up all of her attention and strength. Still underneath the curtain, she began pushing the bed back up onto the raised ground. As much as she expected to not be strong enough – she was. Fiona leant forwards, slowly extending her arms. Her muscles had never been tested in such a way, though they were stable and didn't tremble under the weight.

Finally, the princess stood back and contemplated the new, _secure_ but skewed position of her bed. She shook out her arms, they ached a little from the effort. Looking between the bed and her door, she wondered if it was worth it. Maybe a rescuer wouldn't even come at night… but how could she be sure?

She did her best to fill herself with determination, as she moved around to the other side of the bed. Pushing it would leave no danger of getting squashed. _Not that she'd even get squashed_. She was reminded again of her form. She sighed before trying to feel as grateful as she could for the strength needed. With a couple of heaves from the princess, the bed overbalanced down the steps, though not without making a terrible noise. Fiona flinched, staying quiet, listening for the dragon. Occasionally when she dropped something loud, or screamed – as people occasionally do – she would hear the dragon growl its disapproval. It was silent. She let go of the breath she didn't realise she was holding. Though, her relief didn't last long. She realised with growing alarm that she might have broken the bed and what would happen if it did break? Who could she ask for a replacement? The dragon? She shuddered at the thought. Hurrying in a circle around the piece of furniture, she could sigh her relief that it was still in one piece, unscathed by her impulsive rearranging.

After more pushing and pulling and scraping, the foot of the bed finally sat against the door. The princess stood back, hands on her hips admiring her work. She looked around her dark – darker than usual – room. She supposed with her work done, she could get back into bed and go to sleep. She hesitantly climbed under her cover once again. Her arms were aching and yet she felt exhilarated, too amped-up to sleep. She took deep breaths, slowing her rapid breathing. She didn't want to spend the night awake and then need to sleep during the day and waste her true form. The more moonlit hours she could sleep away the better – it was an attitude she'd had for a long while.

Though, after a moment of laying in the quiet, Fiona found herself restless. The adrenaline only fuelling the fear that still lingered in her mind. She continued to watch the door immediately in front of her, as if someone were about to leap through it that very second. She tried to reassure herself; no one could open it, _especially_ with her laying in the bed, as an _ogre_. Though, as desperately as she wanted to feel relieved, she couldn't draw her eyes from the entryway. Visions of her prince thinking it was but another trial to get through and hacking at the door with an axe entered her mind. Of course, laying where she was, she would be perfectly within range of a swing as he got through the door and saw the beast laying there. The princess stumbled out of bed yet again.

She looked around the sparse room, she didn't have much to work with. Her heart was racing in her chest, she knew she needed to do _something_ to secure her safety. Her eyes landed on one of the tapestries that decorated her room. Without thinking she grasped hold of it with both hands and pulled it hard. It began to tear away from its pole attached to the wall. She ripped at it until it successfully dropped into her arms. Maybe a curtain blocking his view would help. She could easily tell him to wait, make up an excuse about not being decent. It would buy her time to panic and explain.

She stood on her bed – still barricading the door – and tried to balance it atop the doorframe. If she bunched it up enough, perhaps it would stay. However, the ogress quickly realised it was too heavy to stay in place. Whenever she stuffed one section into place, she'd move onto another and it would fall again. The repeated failures only grew her frustrations. She screwed up the tapestry in her arms, scowling as she did so. She aggressively threw it at the wall opposite her, trying to release the anger inside of her.

She hopped down from her bed, hastily pulling one of the posts, dragging it away from the door again. Frustrated tears prickled at her eyes, she scowled, wiping them away. Agitated and desperate for a solution, she grabbed a pile of books she had created and dropped them in front of the door. Her unfocused movements caused them to topple over. The princess roared her distress, kicking at them. She took a deep, shuddery breath, giving the bed one last frustrated push and heard an unmistakable rip from the carpet tangled beneath her feet and the bed posts.

It was truly the last straw for the princess. Her face creased up and she lowered herself onto the cold stone floor. She hugged her knees, rocking back and forth a little, unable to take her eyes off of the door. She didn't even _want_ to look elsewhere; her room was a disaster. Should a prince arrive that night, he would think a monster had ransacked the room and eaten the princess - she'd surely be as slain as the dragon. Fiona laid her head against her knees as more tears threatened to fall. At home she had people guarding her so no one could reach her or see her at night. She found herself longing for the restrictions she once hated. She sniffed, wiping her face on her legs, finally exhausted but terrified at the thought of trying to sleep. "I just want to go home," she mumbled into the darkness, blinking at the newest part of her room that haunted her, unable to move her gaze for the rest of the night.

* * *

. . .

 _Please no one talk to me about how her tower door seems to open both ways, and in the first film it's barred from the outside meaning it opens outwards into the stairwell – I know. I'm going with Forever After cannon where it's a pretty, ornate door that must have been locked shut with a key and opens into the room. Thank you, Dreamworks, for your consistency. That is all._

 _I promise one day I'll write one that isn't depressing. Poor Fiona._


	6. Goodnight

Harold dragged his feet into the sitting room. The sight of the teapot with an awaiting cup brought relief to the bedraggled king. There were days where his duties were incredibly rewarding, but on others much less so. A day full of negotiations and people whom he distinctly disliked left him feeling worse for wear. He had spent the hours the meetings had dragged on for wishing for that very moment, where he could relax and not think about things for a while. Switching his brain off was something he had grown to very much enjoy.

His wife lifted her eyes from the book she was reading to smile at him. He barely mustered a smile back, flopping into his chair beside her.

"Are you alright?" she asked him simply.

He met her gaze, "It's fine," he waved it off, "Or at least I _hope_ so." Switching off for the night didn't involve relaying the events to his wife, he could do that tomorrow. She nodded her understanding. They had ruled together long enough that she knew their routine. He reached for the teapot-

"Fiona is tucked into bed," his wife was fast, stopping his movement, "Will you go and say goodnight?"

Harold's eyes drifted to the window, the curtains hadn't been drawn despite the darkness. The sun safely below the horizon. " _Uh-"_

"She's noticing when you won't say goodnight to her, Harold," Lillian's voice was chastising.

He blinked at her insistence. It wasn't like it was _un_ warranted, but he couldn't see the problem with it. He didn't see what was wrong with unwinding for a little while before needing to deal with something else. It wasn't like his personal life was without problems either. "She'll be asleep," he observed, his wife only raised a brow, " _Of course_ I shall say goodnight to her, later." He _would_ , if he _remembered_.

Lillian remained unconvinced, she continued, "Will you kiss her head?" she asked, "Like you used to?"

He froze, his thoughts beginning to scramble in a panic, "I-"

His wife was not done, the pent-up frustration flooding out. "We used to read to her, cuddle her, cherish her every night. Why does her changing _forms_ stop that?"

Lillian didn't understand, it had grown clearer to him. He screwed up his nose, "But it's _disgusting_ , Lillian. We shouldn't… I _couldn't…_ "

He was only met with a glare, "She is our _daughter_ , Harold," she took a breath, "We must _accept_ what happened."

"I _know_ ," he sighed. The defensiveness rose within him. He loved his daughter, if anything, it made the whole situation worse. Perhaps if he didn't _care_ then he wouldn't do anything, he'd just _accept_ it. But that wouldn't do any good for her. It was _tough love_. "But there is a _line_. With _our_ acceptance, comes _her_ acceptance. And then where does that acceptance end?" he looked wide eyed at his wife, "What if she just decides one day that she doesn't mind it? Or even that she _likes_ it? What if she decides to _tell_ people, what will happen then? No one will want her like _that_ ," he gestured up, up through the castle to where she was safely shut in her room.

" _Harold…_ "

"She'll be the _ogre princess_ forever!" he was adamant, for once he didn't care for his wife's approval.

She shook her head a little, "You're making this about yourself again," she raised her eyebrows, words firm and even, "aren't you?"

"This _isn't_ about me! This isn't anything _like_ me... This is _completely_ different," he stumbled over his words, "I'm just trying to _protect_ our daughter, Lillian. Protect her from the people who will think lesser of her just because of the... the _unfortunate circumstance_ she's in. As her father, I will _not_ let her give up and _accept_ it. It's not _her_ fault, she shouldn't suffer consequences because of misplaced acceptance and trust in the world."

Lillian finally backed down, her shoulders slumped a little, she sighed. "It's no one's fault," her eyes cast downwards.

"It's... Well..." he faltered a little, "No, it's... it's no one's fault."

Her resolve flooded back, "I still say we should conduct our own searches for the witch who did this. Perhaps she could offer a reversal, or perhaps _then_ we could take it to the public and word would spread until we could find someone," her gaze was almost pleading.

"No, _no_. The Fairy Godmother said she would handle it," it disgusted him most to say those words. He did want to conduct searches, searches that would result in the truth. Except… not the _whole_ truth. "I trust her, dear. She-she knows what's best here. It's magic business, we couldn't comprehend it."

A frown crossed her features, "I can certainly comprehend what it's doing to our daughter every night."

"As can I," the pair faded into silence. There was no resolution to the arguments that revolved around their child. The resolution was the curse breaking and her humanity restored, but it seemed they had a long while to wait. A long while that Fiona had to bear the brunt of. Harold was happy Lillian didn't know the details of their deal, it meant she could oppose the Fairy Godmother much easier, it also meant the Fairy Godmother had to give in a little easier too. It was good for the both of them that she didn't find out. He feared what would have happened to his daughter if there was no opposition and his unfortunate ally getting everything she wished for.

Lillian finally took a breath, speaking softly, "She waits for you, Harold," they met each other's gaze, "All she wants is her father to say goodnight."

* * *

Harold carefully entered his daughter's bedroom. He tried to withhold the saddening of his expression when he laid eyes on her. She was sat in bed, reading by candlelight. Her long ears perked up as she saw him enter.

"Daddy!" she grinned at him, revealing the half missing tooth she had lost a small while ago. It was cute in the day-time, only now it made him shudder a little.

"I've come to say goodnight," he announced himself, warily approaching her bed. She snapped the book closed, attention focused solely on him. He gingerly sat at the edge of her bed. Immediately she began bunching the covers, moving them off of herself. " _No no,_ " he halted her advances, "It's quite alright, you've already been tucked in."

Her happy expression faded a little, "Oh," her ears lowered, "Okay," she mustered another smile. "I like it when you come to say goodnight, I was reading so I could wait for you."

"That's... that's very good, dear. Of course I shall say goodnight… when I'm not too busy," the guilt crept over him.

"You were too busy last time I waited. But look, daddy, I'm practising!" the child's attention was quickly changed. She opened the book once again, flipping to a certain page, "It says, _the cat tipped its hat and said g-good bye to the… the princess_ ," she dragged a large finger across the words, suddenly looking up to him, giggling, "The cat is so _fat_!" she turned the book around to show him.

He smiled at it hesitantly.

"Mom says I'm doing good at reading…" she spoke expectantly, peering at him.

"You are," he nodded, "Well done, darling." Her expression brightened again at his approval. He sat stiffly at the end of her bed, watching her as she flipped across the pages once more. "Fiona," he addressed her a little more seriously, "I want to promise you that things will get better. You won't have to endure this forever."

Her nose wrinkled in confusion, "What?"

"You... your form, darling."

"Oh," she looked a little surprised down at her unsightly green hands, "Yes," she took hold of one of her ears, before dropping her hands to her lap, "I'm ugly," her voice was soft.

"You're beautiful in the day time, and it will be that way at night too, _one day_. I promise that, I will make _sure_ of it."

She nodded, blinking down at her lap, she looked towards her book again.

"Now sweet dreams, Fiona," he stood, giving her a smile, "No more reading, now. It's-it's time for bed."

Fiona smiled a little back at him, "I promise I won't, daddy."

"That's my girl," he nodded at her, "Goodnight, I'll see you tomorrow, darling."

"Goodnight daddy," she placed the book on her nightstand, "I love you."

"I-I love you too," he nodded again at his green child, already in the doorway.

* * *

. . .

 _This is the first story I finished for this fic but there was always one I liked better to upload. It finally escaped the document!_

 _I hope you liked, please leave a review :)_


	7. Home

Fiona sat, trembling slightly, watching her husband, mother and the doctor in a near squabble. She took a slow deep breath through her nose, adjusting her safety grip on the pail she was using as a sick bucket. She had tuned them out completely, finding she didn't have the energy to keep up.

"I'm afraid there is nothing we can do but offer advice here," the doctor took a firmer tone, turning to Fiona. "You fainted due to dehydration from the sickness your pregnancy is causing. There is nothing we can do about that to make it stop. Try eating bland foods when you wake up and throughout the day, and sip water as much as you can."

"That's it?" Shrek scoffed.

In normal circumstances, Fiona would have chastised him, but she couldn't. She was afraid if she opened her mouth it wouldn't be words coming out.

"This sickness she's experiencing is severe, far worse than I've ever seen," her mother touched her head comfortingly.

"Everyone is different, Your Highness. There's many factors that can affect the severity of this," he met Fiona's gaze once again, "It will pass, or at least diminish in time."

"How much time?" Shrek didn't miss a beat.

"Maybe a few months," he confirmed, much to Fiona's dismay.

"Wha- but that's so long away…" Shrek suddenly sounded less sure of himself.

"That's how it goes."

Fiona took another breath, intending to intervene before her family could, "Thank you, doctor," she mumbled, forcing a small smile.

They left, putting her back to bed. She had been doing her best to protest any special treatment because of the sickness. Her mother had generally supported her, all the while watching her carefully whenever she showed signs of feeling ill, quietly checking on her whenever she could. However, her husband had been endlessly concerned for her. She had experienced a never-ending torrent of questions about how she was feeling and if she was sure. After fainting into his arms that afternoon, she finally submitted to their wishes to be checked upon and not leave the bed. It was strange to her, up until a couple of weeks previously she had felt fine, _good_ even. Of course, that time was filled with the chaos Charming wrought on the kingdom. Clearly, in her surprise of feeling so good, she had willed the sickness into existence and it very quickly started plaguing her mornings, which turned into mornings and afternoons _and_ the occasional night.

Shrek's grip on her was tight as they led her back into bed, she could tell he didn't want her to fall again. As she looked at his face, it looked like he was on the verge of sickness himself.

"I'm _fine_ ," she insisted once again, though her pale lips and slight trembling, the bucket an extension of her arm, didn't help convince them. She sat down in her bed, her mother adjusted her pillows before practically pushing her back into them, removing the pail from her hand and placing it beside the bed. Shrek helped her get under the covers, pulling them over her. She'd never seen her husband and mother agree and work together as much as they had the past few days when the sickness had peaked. Neither of them wanted to leave her alone, almost clashing in their desires to tend to her needs first. If anything, it was annoying her to the point where she wished they would both leave.

"Are you sure you don't need anything, darling?"

"D'ya have water? Those… those cracker things? Is _that_ what the doctor said?"

"I've sent for some more, it should be arriving n- _Oh_ , here… Thank you, Martha."

Fiona leant her head back into the pillows, rolling her eyes at the fuss they were giving her. Though, as much as she wanted to shoo them, she gratefully and a little desperately took the food and water they forced upon her. It _hadn't_ been pleasant for her, especially so in trying to appear a lot better than she felt. There was something within her that _needed_ to be a part of Artie's introductions to the throne. She tried to be present for everything, every meeting, announcement, and conversation. She didn't want him to feel like they were abandoning him now that he'd fully accepted the role. There was also the small fear that he would change his mind and give the crown back to her – it was rightfully hers after all. She wanted to make sure she – and her husband – were learning the same things. It was a welcome refresher for her, not so much for Shrek. Especially with his increasing worry for her. So she tried to be as _fine_ as she could for everyone. She had apparently pushed her limits too far.

She stared blankly ahead of her as she slowly nibbled on the cracker that had somehow landed in her hand, ignoring the fussing of her loved ones. She could feel her sweating and trembling beginning to fade, her mind finally allowed to stray from wondering if she was about to throw up. The ogress barely acknowledged her mother's hand upon her forehead and muttered her goodbyes and thanks to her. Upon the door closing, everything fell silent. She took a long drawn breath, exhaling slowly. The peace was welcome to her.

"So…" Shrek hesitantly sat on the bed beside her, "What'd ya wanna do?" he looked around the room, "D'ya want me t' go? Or get ye something else or…?" he watched her.

Fiona sighed a little, looking at the glass of water she held rested in her lap, "I want to go home," she spoke the words truthfully. It _was_ the truth. She'd been thinking of everyone else, doing what she thought was best for _them_. Now, her thoughts landed on _her_. It's all she had the capacity to think about.

" _Really?_ " Shrek was surprised, which in turn surprised her. She had expected nothing less than elation at her statement. "I mean…" the concern on his face only grew, "Wouldn't it be best f'ye here?"

She rolled her head over to face him, meeting his gaze, "I've had to throw up in vases _twice_ and I fainted already," she smirked at him despite herself, "I'm not really feeling my _best_ here."

His face alit a little, a small smile tugging at his lips, "Aye," though the worry still managed to push its way back, "Would ya really feel better at home? I don't think _location_ is gonna change anything."

"I thought you _wanted_ to leave?" she asked him, ignoring his question, continuing to take small bites of the food in her hand.

"I did! And… I _do_ ," he shrugged,"But I thought _you_ didn't and…" he trailed off, " _and then_ things changed… and… yanno…" he helplessly gestured to her.

She looked ahead of her once again, taking another sip of water and shakily placing it on her bedside table. The complex thinking wasn't doing much to help her state. "There's so much to think about and _worry_ about here," she addressed his question, "At home it's just you and me."

Shrek nodded, though the crease in his brow didn't leave, "What if… what if something happens?" he paused, "Again?"

He referred to her fainting earlier. She had barely lost consciousness for more than five seconds, just enough for her to wobble and fall. The spots were dancing in front of her eyes for long enough that she knew it was going to happen, she'd even managed to tell him she was losing consciousness before he needed to catch her. She had _wanted_ to play it off like everything was fine, except immediately needing to vomit and the violent shaking didn't help her case. Still, fainting and throwing up… it could have been worse. Not that others saw it that way. The silver lining in her mind was that it simply showed the baby was sticking, despite everything that had happened before; all the stress, fear and physical exertion. In the moments she could feel reassured by the sickness, she did.

She looked at him once more, smiling, "If the doctor says its fine, I think I'm fine," she gingerly waved the quarter of a cracker she held in her hand at him, "Besides I have these now."

"Y'don't _look_ fine, Fiona," he forced a chuckle at her.

"I know," she hesitated a little, "I don't _feel_ fine either," she quietly admitted, "But if it's normal, I guess I'll have to get used to it," she shrugged at him. "Hey, it'll go away… eventually," she desperately tried to cheer him up, "Even if it does last longer than usual, I'm not going to be pregnant forever."

Her smile faded as she realised her words only seemed to make him wither even more.

She took another breath, trying a different angle, "I'm sure I'll feel better at home anyway, I won't have crowds of people to stand in front of and officials to meet."

He finally met her gaze, "Aye, that's true."

She nodded at him, her energy seeming to replenish a little at the new plan, "I should tell mom we're leaving soon," she lifted her head from the pillows, eating the last of the cracker she held. The thought of going home seemed to excite her more than she thought it would. The sooner the better, she realised - especially if the sickness was only getting worse. She could imagine their long carriage ride home would certainly be a memorable one. "I should tell her now," she moved the bedsheet off of her herself, carefully sitting up.

" _No no no_ ," Shrek hurriedly leaned over to her, putting a stop to her movement, "I'll go get her, bring her t'you."

Fiona almost protested, she could _walk_ after all. But the movement seemed to stir the queasiness in her stomach again. She took a deep, slow breath and nodded at him. Despite his previous resistance, he was in the doorway before she'd even situated herself back in the bed.

" _Wait_ , Shrek?" she asked quickly before he left the room. She thought back to the chaos she'd just been freed from, the many argument possibilities that could happen with her strong-willed mother and frazzled husband in the room together talking about such a sensitive topic. Or even just the possibility that they'd convince her to stay, it almost brought the sickness right back up. "I need to tell her alone."

"Why?"

"Because she needs to hear it from me," she spoke honestly, "Without your opinion."

* * *

Fiona placed the cracker her mother had forced upon her onto the bed. The thought of eating anything seemed to make her want to gag. The positivity about her plan had truly passed. She realised she hadn't thought much about how exactly to word the announcement. She couldn't imagine her mom being thrilled about her leaving in her current state, not being able to watch and fuss over her.

"Mom, I'm _fine_ ," she insisted once again, trying to swallow back the nausea.

Lillian sat back in the chair she'd situated beside the bed. They sat in silence for moment, her mother only watching her. Fiona fiddled with the sheet that still covered her.

She finally took a breath, " _Mom-_ "

"Fiona," Lillian interrupted her, "I've been thinking and I'd like to offer you a proposal," her mother was serious, her expression concerned.

The ogress looked to her questioningly.

Lillian set a small smile on her face, "I'd like for you to live here, in the castle."

Fiona dropped her head back against the headboard with a thunk. She closed her eyes, suddenly regretting her previous urgency.

"Are you feeling okay?" her mother misinterpreted her body language.

"Yes," Fiona returned her gaze, "Just mom… I don't know…"

Lillian sighed, "I know you're not fond of being here-"

" _No-"_

"It's alright, dear," she gave the ogress a knowing look, "I understand it must be _freeing_ to live apart from all of this. But staying here with doctors and help… it would be what's best for you, Fiona, _and_ for the baby."

The ogress closed her eyes again, she took a dizzying breath that felt cold on the back of her throat, "Dad told me to think about what was best for me when we first got here," she spoke quietly.

"I know, dear, he was- he…"

"It's okay," she opened her eyes. There was a sudden sadness that came over her mother. "I know," she gave her mom a small smile, "That's… That's over now." She could feel the knot tying itself in her throat again, it was exactly what she didn't need.

"Drink, darling."

Fiona fought the urge to roll her eyes. But it was the distraction her mind needed to allow her to carefully swallow back the emotion. Her mother watched her, waiting patiently for her to explain her words.

"Mom… I just don't think here _is_ what's best for me," she spoke carefully. When her father had initially told her to think about herself, she had spent hours agonising over it. Sure, being close to her family was something _good_ , however, being _happy_ seemed far more important in her mind. Like before, her mind landed on the same conclusions. "I wanted to tell you that we're going home," her voice was quiet, she'd made up her mind.

"Now?" Lillian furrowed her brow.

"Yes, _well_ , soon," Fiona confirmed.

As quickly as the surprise took over her mother's expression, it left again, rendering Fiona useless at predicting any possible reaction.

"Will Shrek be able to take care of you?" she asked the question innocently.

"Of _course_ ," Fiona felt the defensiveness rise within her.

"Are you sure you'll have everything you need?" her mother was fast.

" _Yes_ …"

"What will you do about doctor's appointments?"

Fiona could tell she was entering her queen mode. She was brought back to when she was a child, being questioned and chastised about her manner and etiquette. The ogress didn't _want_ to feel like a child, especially not when the situation revolved around having a child of her own. The frustration building within her was a distraction from the nausea, she felt herself welcoming it.

"I can… _come back,_ " Fiona spoke exasperatedly, "I'll be _fine_."

Lillian only took a breath at the seeping frustration Fiona couldn't hold back, "Things have moved very _quickly_ , Fiona, and I want to make sure that you'll be okay."

Fiona looked down at the bedsheet again, brow crossed. She inferred from her mother's words that she didn't mean living in the castle forever. But if they stayed for the pregnancy, when would they return home? The baby would be too young to travel at first, maybe they'd then end up relying too much on having help at hand and be too nervous to go home with an infant. Then what would happen when they decided to have a second baby? They'd end up staying forever anyway. The thought of that made her shudder for herself, her husband _and_ her child.

"You see the way people look at me," Fiona spoke evenly, "You _have_ to because they're not exactly subtle." In being present for all of Artie's duties, she shared her presence with a lot of people who _weren't_ her family – people who didn't go through the same emotional rollercoaster they all had. People who still looked at her like she didn't belong. They were _polite_ , some were even kind, but she could see the difference in the way they interacted with her, or avoided interacting with her altogether. Part of her had put that down to Shrek being by her side, he wasn't so subtle about his distaste for everything, and she supposed he _was_ physically intimidating to humans who didn't _know_ him. It didn't change the unease it brought her.

After a moment of careful contemplation her mother hesitantly parted her lips to speak, "Darling, they're still _adjusting_."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, thanking her previous self for ensuring privacy with her mother. "How long will that take?" Fiona raised an eyebrow at her, "Will _everyone_ who meets us need time to adjust?" Lillian only watched her. Fiona swallowed back a torrent of emotions she wanted to throw into the room. Instead, she lowered her voice, " _That_ doesn't make me feel _okay,_ mom."

"I can't imagine it does," Lillian relented, though the hesitancy was still woven within her tone.

The ogress sighed. She shifted herself up so she was sitting against the headboard, losing the slightly horizontal position that was helping her uneasy stomach; the need to be taken seriously overriding the desire to feel good. She thought for a moment, staring at the cracker that was still sitting on the bed. Finally, she made eye contact with her mother, "You shut me away every night to protect me from these people and the _world_ ," she began slowly, "Now I need to protect _my_ child from the same. And I can do it without keeping them shut away their whole life."

Lillian's gaze dropped to the ground, the corners of her lips turning downwards.

Despite everything, Fiona felt the guilt wash over her, "No, mom I didn't _mean_ anything by it, I just… I wasn't _happy_ with that… _as a child_."

Her mother nodded slowly, "I know," she met her gaze with sad eyes, "We always knew you were miserable about it. We should have tried to improve things for you," she shrugged, "We just didn't know _how_."

The ogress looked away. The conversation was entering territory she wasn't comfortable with, especially not now. She hadn't yet spoken up about her feelings surrounding everything that happened to her. There was no point in confronting the past with her mother, not when there was so much to look forward to. "It's okay," the slight racing of her heart wasn't helping keep the nausea down.

"It's not and it never was, dear. On the behalf of your father and I, I apologise for-"

"Mom, it's fine," Fiona dismissed her quickly, "You don't need to be sorry. Everything worked out," she repeated what she'd told her parents before, whenever they'd tried to apologise. It was _true_.

"I would still _like_ to apologise to you, Fiona," Lillian was indignant. "I'm not sure how I can make it up to you, but I shall try."

Fiona shook her head, she smiled a little at her, "Mom, _really_ , it's fine. You already broke me out of a dungeon."

Her words brought a soft smile to Lillian's face, though it faded quickly. She wasn't entirely sure how to reassure her mom that she was okay. But she wasn't about to compromise her own child's happiness, her own happiness came second now to the biggest priority in her mind. She was sure her mother would agree to _that_.

The ogress took a breath in the silence Lillian had granted her, eager to change the subject back to the most important matter. "We're going home, mom."

Her mother met her gaze, "You're still going to come back, aren't you, Fiona?" she asked pensively, "You're still the princess of this kingdom, no matter how people look at you."

Fiona could see the slight panic in her mother's eyes, despite her calm and collected exterior. "Of course we'll visit," she spoke the obvious, "This is a part of who I am," she confirmed, "I want the baby to be a part of this, it's who they are too."

Lillian leant forward and took her daughter's hand, "I just want you to be happy, darling."

"I know," Fiona smiled genuinely, "I am."

* * *

. . .

 _This took so long to get to the relevant part! But the pregnancy is fun to dive into, so I dove in. Also, not the saddest fic you've ever read this time, win for that._

 _The biggest thank you and shout out to rawshark for theorising, encouraging, talking about canon and helping create about a million new concepts for these. Go go read and leave a review on her stuff, she's the light fluff to my dark and depressing._

 _Thank you for reading :)_


	8. Mourning

Harold watched his wife watch the gardens. He stood in the doorway, he didn't know what to say. He worked best trying not to think about anything, distracting himself. Lillian found distraction uncomfortable, as he'd grown to learn over the past two weeks. At first, Lillian had very much put on a brave face, she was sad, but she'd continued with life and taken things in her stride. Though, slowly, she deteriorated. Each day growing more and more miserable and despondent. Not that he could blame her. The rock at the pit of his stomach hadn't yet gone away and whenever he dwelled on their situation too much it put a knot in his throat. Still-

"It's what's best for her," he spoke again. Reminding his wife, _and himself_ , all over again.

"I know," Lillian breathed, looking down at the stuffed tabby cat that she held in her lap. Her gaze returned to the window.

He didn't move from the doorway for a while more, watching her. Her shoulders were rolled forward a little, slumping, one hand held the toy, the other was rested atop its back. Her eyes were hollow and yet she didn't cry. She had cried, on their journey back from letting their daughter go, the quiet night that followed, at breakfast the next morning, unable to look at the uncharacteristically empty seat. Since then her tears had dried. He hadn't seen her this way in roughly thirteen years. Fiona's existence had put a stop to that, only to be resumed now, upon her departure.

"Our daughter is gone," she finally spoke. Her words were quiet, almost as if she were talking to herself.

"Lillian, she's not dead," he carefully spoke his thoughts, "she's coming back to us. One day," he was practically minded.

"I know that," she sharpened her tone, "I can't help but _feel_ like I'm mourning her, Harold."

He didn't know what to say, so he didn't. He felt much the same, not that he would tell her. It felt surreal, the time they had been waiting for – for years – had arrived. They had both been dreading it, assuring each other they still had time, that she would be okay. His resolve to find another solution had slowly grown until he realised he was too much of a coward to do so. He had realised it far too late. Without distraction, the guilt was overwhelming for the king.

He slowly approached her chair, she remained silent. It had been a _quiet_ two weeks. He hadn't realised how much life and conversation his daughter had brought to their days. The pair even avoided talking _about_ her lest it renew the painful emotions they were simultaneously trying to avoid and as well as constantly wallowing in.

"I've changed my mind, Harold," she commented nonchalantly.

" _What?_ " alarm rose within him. As much as his heart ached for Fiona, the thought of Lillian demanding her back terrified him.

"I don't want to continue trying for another child," she spoke slowly, much to his relief. It had occurred to him long ago that conceiving another child was an impossibility for them, not that he told her of course. "How could we? They wouldn't even know their older sister. Fiona might see them as a replacement. The _kingdom_ might see them as a replacement. That's not fair."

"But… we wouldn't get to have a son," Harold gently reminded her. Despite knowing what he knew, there was still hope that Lillian would alight within him every now and again. Hope that had vanished with his daughter.

Lillian shrugged, "My parents had seven daughters before they resided to the fact they weren't getting a son. My sister made for a fine heir, as does Fiona."

Harold nodded, "She does."

"I hope more than anything she's okay," Lillian expressed the same hope she'd been repeating all the while, subconsciously stroking at the toy cat in her hands.

His hand landed comfortingly on her shoulder, eyes heavy. He sighed. "So do I."

* * *

. . .

 _And we're back to depressing. I feel strange saying 'I hope you liked' after this…_

 _Thanks for reading! Fast update for a mini chapter._


	9. Love

"Told ya," Shrek raised his eyebrows at his wife, nudging her.

Fiona dragged her eyes away from her daughter's closed bedroom door to her husband, she shushed him.

"Told ya that boy was nothing but trouble," he had his arms folded, watching the door too, "If ye'd just agreed with me before-"

" _No_ ," Fiona nudged him back, "And not _allowed_ her to date anyone?"

"Well we'd have avoided _this_ ," he gestured to her door, brow furrowed.

Fiona sighed. They listened to their teenage daughter's muffled sobbing for a moment. They had been relegated to the other side of the closed door. Neither parent could have predicted how their day had gone. Things had been _normal_ that morning, seeing the triplets off to school; Fiona had to wake Felicia up three times, Fergus had almost forgotten one of his school books, Farkle left late. However, them returning from school had been especially abnormal. They were late home, later than usual. Late enough that Fiona had begun to get a little concerned. Fergus and Felicia had eventually come home together, their son's arm around their distraught daughter. After a short while of hysterics, Farkle returned claiming to have hit the boy responsible for the disruption, this throwing Felicia into further distress. Farkle had been cast out, having left again in a sulk, Fergus being the person of comfort who was currently talking to her in a hushed voice. He'd told them that they'd best stay out of it, _he'd got it_.

Fiona shook her head, "She'd just have dated him in secret and we'd only be finding out about the whole relationship now."

Shrek slipped an arm around her, giving a bemused snort. She looked at him strangely.

"Ye say that like we don't know _everything_ she gets up to behind our backs," a smirk grew on his face.

"I _hope_ we know everything she gets up to behind our backs," Fiona smiled despite herself.

Her smile soon faded.

"Hey, we'd have avoided _all_ of this if they never went t'school in the fir- _oof_."

Fiona elbowed him hard, rolling her eyes, " _Shrek_." He brought up his once passionate argument about their children's education every time something negative happened to them when they were in school. So much so that it had become an inside joke to the couple. Even though it wasn't something _ogres_ did, it wasn't a _human_ school either. The kids weren't lonely, they each had friends as well as each other, that's all that truly mattered to Fiona after all.

"She'll be fine," Shrek reassured her, bringing their attention back to the closed door, "She'll forget all about him." She nodded. He was right, but it didn't make it any less painful listening to her cries.

The door opened, Fergus meekly appearing. He closed her door behind him, meeting their concerned gazes.

"She wants me to talk to Farkle, so…" he gestured towards the door.

"Are you okay?" Fiona asked him as he approached them, placing a comforting hand on his arm. Finally outside of the childish sibling rivalry stage, they often sought more comfort from each other than they did her. But the mother knew too well how draining it was to console an inconsolable Felicia.

He nodded, glancing back at where his sister was shut away, "She's not though." His brow was furrowed, eyes betraying the worry he had for her.

The parents nodded their understanding of the situation. "Okay, be back for dinner," she patted his shoulder.

" _Both_ of ye," Shrek gave him a knowing look.

Fergus gave them a half-hearted smile before slowly leaving. The couple met each other's gazes, then looked back at the closed door. There was silence, Felicia had gone quiet with no one tending to her. Shrek gestured to the door in question, silently suggesting Fiona take their son's place.

"Do you want to come?" Fiona offered, voice low.

Shrek hesitated, " _Ah_ , she won't want me," he scratched the back of his head.

Fiona gave him a knowing smile. He often shied away from any of the kids' intense emotional reactions to things. Besides, he was right. She wasn't even sure what _she_ could say to help her daughter, but she could imagine _she_ would be the preferable parent for comforting boy issues.

She hesitantly approached the door, and knocked lightly before slowly opening it. Felicia was laying on her bed, knees tucked up, fiddling with the edge of her pillow. She didn't acknowledge Fiona's entrance, sniffing.

"Hey honey," Fiona spoke softly to her.

"Hey."

Felicia glanced at her, sighing, giving a dry sob.

Fiona gently sat on the edge of her bed, "Are you okay?"

Her daughter's lips curled downwards, face creasing up once again, she shook her head. The mother rubbed her shoulder affectionately. Felicia slowly sat up, taking to Fiona's embrace as a new set of tears started rolling down her cheeks.

She rested her forehead on her mother's shoulder, "This _hurts_ so _much_ ," Felicia sobbed.

"I know, baby, I know," Fiona cooed at her daughter, holding onto her, stroking her long tangle of hair. Though, Fiona couldn't help but realise she _didn't_ really _know_. Sure, she'd experienced some hurt over her relationship with her husband over the years, some mild and some _not_ so mild. But there was never finality to it. There was always a solution. She had taken solace in that. _Still_ , she knew _enough_. She also knew her daughter, despite being a little emotionally unhinged sometimes, she was strong.

"He-he said he doesn't even want to _try_. It's over, it's _over_ over. But it _can't_ be. It _can't-_ "

" _Shh_."

"And then _Farkle_ , he _he_ …"

"I know. He shouldn't have."

"Now he'll _never_ want to try again. He'll _never_ want me back. He'll _never-"_ she broke down into unintelligible sobs once again.

Fiona rocked her back and forth a little, holding onto her tightly. There had been many moments over the years where she'd comforted her crying daughter, it was comforting in herself that she continued to be able to do so. But it had been a _long_ while since she'd seen Felicia so upset, it almost brought tears to her own eyes as she held her trembling child, unable to save her from the sadness she felt.

After a while, Felicia wiped her face on her sleeve, taking a deep breath through her nose and sighed, "I- I don't understand. I _love_ him, mom - I thought that when you fall in love it lasts forever."

Fiona's grip on her daughter loosened a little as she suddenly found herself speechless. She was glad that Felicia couldn't see the momentary panic that flashed across her face. As silly as it sounded coming from her heartbroken teenage daughter, she was right. It's what Fiona had always told her children. It's what _Shrek_ had told them too, maybe less directly. In every fairy tale, every story – love was true, and true love lasted forever. Just like their parents.

It never crossed her mind that this was something that would affect them. Fiona knew this boyfriend - or rather _ex_ boyfriend - of her daughter's wasn't her first kiss, nor her second. This had been something the mother had previously struggled with, finally coming to realise it was normal for children who were not locked away in towers. As much as Fiona could figure out, the stories they told their children were just that; stories. If Felicia had no trouble kissing people then she always thought _dating_ would be the same. Clearly, much against Fiona's own belief system, you didn't need to be in _love_ to kiss someone. Fiona was definitely not in touch with what was considered normal; thirteen years in a tower did that to a person, go figure.

Still, Fiona knew the answer to her daughter's unspoken question. "You're _young_. It'll work like that when you get _older_ , honey."

Felicia lifted her head from where she was leant against her shoulder. Fiona watched her brow crease again, though this time not in sadness. It clearly wasn't the answer her daughter was seeking. "So I can't do _anything_ until I'm _old_ enough?" her emotions took a turn, "Grandma was _eighteen_ when she got married, so I just have to wait until _then?_ And then things will magically _matter?_ "

Fiona sighed, " _No_. That's not what I mean."

"Then _how_ do I _know?_ " her daughter looked to her desperately, fresh tears filling her eyes.

Fiona silently searched her face, she didn't know what answers to give her daughter. She reached out to wipe her tears, but Felicia dodged the gesture.

"I don't have a big magical sign like _you_ did," her words were sharp and accusatory as she shifted away.

Fiona watched her in silence, mouth sewn in a firm line, her brain unable to grasp an answer.

"How do _I_ know that he _wasn't_ my true love? _How_ do I know this isn't going to happen _every_ time?" she let out a small whimper, tears falling over her cheeks again, "I feel like I can't _breathe_ , I don't _want_ this to ever happen _again_." Felicia shrugged off her mother's arm and collapsed back onto her bed, rolling onto her side, facing the wall. "Being alone forever is better than _this_ ," she mumbled, taking a shuddery breath, "No one else will want me anyway."

" _Felicia,"_ Fiona sighed. Felicia was done with talking, she kept her back to her mother. Fiona watched her daughter reach under the pillow, pulling the small ragged toy ogre from beneath, the squeaker long gone. She picked at its frayed edges, sniffing.

Fiona gently placed her hand on Felicia's head, stroking her hair once again, "It'll be okay," she spoke quietly.

"How would _you_ know?" she mumbled, staring intently at what she held in her hands, "You got everything you wanted."

Fiona paused her stroking. She watched the ground. It wasn't the _first_ time her daughter had said something spiteful towards her and she was sure it wasn't going to be the last. She struggled with herself. She felt the urge to explain, to pour her heart out to her emotional daughter to help her - or even _make_ her - understand, but she didn't. It _wasn't_ the time. It never seemed to be the time. Fiona wondered if she'd _ever_ talk to her children about her own struggles. Happily ever after was what they heard, it's all they knew of their parents, despite _knowing_ some of the other details too.

" _In the end_ ," she settled for, stroking her daughter's hair again, "Just like in the end, things will work out for you," she spoke gently, "Maybe that's not today, but it'll happen eventually, I promise. If I could wait years, you can do this." She heard her daughter sniff, she looked to her, a tear tracing its way down her cheek again.

The door opened slowly. Fiona looked up to see her husband hesitantly standing in the doorway. "Hey," he caught Felicia's attention, she turned her head to look at him. "He's not worth all'a this."

Felicia didn't respond, turning back to the wall. "I know _you_ never liked him, but _I_ did," she spoke as evenly as she was able, "Leave me alone."

As much as Fiona wanted to stay to comfort her daughter more, there was nothing more to say. Frustrations were high and she didn't want to push her luck any longer. Fiona gently patted her shoulder before slowly standing and leaving the room.

"I think we messed up," Fiona spoke quietly, after dragging her husband into their bedroom, throwing the curtain closed behind them. Shrek looked at her, brow furrowed. "Love lasts forever," she repeated their daughter's words, "She's heartbroken because we taught her that."

"What were we supposed t'do? Tell 'em bedtime stories about unhappy marriages and people who never got t'find love?" he chuckled, though his humour faded as his wife didn't share in his mirth. He paused for a moment before he shook his head, "She'd be heartbroken anyway," he waved off the weight of her statement. "Yanno… ye can't _fix_ this, or even _prevent_ it f'her…" he ventured.

"I know," Fiona's tone was sharper than perhaps intended. He was right after all.

He shrugged at her, gesturing in the vague direction of their daughter's room, "It's all stuff she's gotta learn, best now than when it's the _real_ thing," he nudged her playfully.

She suppressed the slight smile he brought out of her, "What do you mean? Nothing like that happened to us?"

"Well, it _could_ have," his own small smile was hesitant.

Fiona met his gaze and watched him for a moment, she nodded, " _True_ love lasts forever," though her eyes trailed to the ground, she sighed, sinking onto the bed, "I just thought what happened for us would happen for them."

"Ye really thought she'd end up marrying that _loser?_ " Shrek's insecure smile expanded into a grin, "Our _daughter -_ Princess Felicia of Far Far Away - an' _that kid_."

The ogress's mouth curved into a smile, almost against her will. "I know," she put her head into her hands, grinning wryly, " _I know_ ," she waved him off. She sat up straighter, meeting his gaze, "I guess their fairy tales will look a little different to ours."

Shrek only shrugged at her, "Yah well, maybe they won't even _have_ fairy tales. Probably fer the best, the amount of trouble ours has given us."

Fiona's gaze dropped down to the bed she sat upon, she didn't react to her husband's chuckle. She'd spent a lot of time imagining how things would go for her children, even as far back as in the tower. Her hopes for them had changed a lot over the years, but she'd always imagined something special for each of them. Of course she knew the boyfriend of her daughter's wasn't going to work out; it _wasn't_ special enough. She was _sure_ there was something bigger for her.

"I just want things to be special for them," she spoke her hopes out loud.

"It will be… t'them," Shrek countered. A sly smirk crossed his face, "Ah, I guess we missed the opportunity t'put Felicia somewhere guarded by a dragon, but something tells me she wouldn't wait around for fer some boy t'save her."

Fiona shook her head at him, smiling despite herself, "No, probably not." She sighed airily, "It's as if we don't really know what we're doing, Sir Shrek."

"Ah, Princess, we never have," he chuckled quietly.

"They turned out okay though, right?" she asked him, the humour in her tone being slightly contrasted by the crease in her brow.

"Aye, I think so."

* * *

. . .

 _This is a teeny tiny concept, that I ran with even though it's not massively relevant. I've explored the continued impact of Fiona's upbringing and situation before, but there's so much to it!_

 _Thanks again to_ _ **rawshark**_ _for encouragement and endless theorising!_


	10. Slumber Party

"Mom?"

Lillian briefly looked up from the letter she was writing, her daughter hovering in the doorway, "Hello, dear," she spoke absentmindedly, resuming her task.

"Mom?"

Lillian barely slowed her writing, "What is it?" she spoke patiently.

There was hesitance. The queen took the opportunity to get sucked back into her task.

"Mom," Fiona's tone changed, becoming firmer, "I'm _ten_ years old."

A brief smile flashed across Lillian's face, "I know, you're so grown up." She paused a second, heart almost skipping a beat, though _no_ , she hadn't misspelt the word. She continued writing.

"I _am!_ " Fiona agreed, adamantly. It was enough to give the mother pause, glancing back to the child she had accidentally empowered. "I'm grown up, so I should be able to make some of my _own_ decisions."

Lillian tried to hide the humour that was creeping over her features, "What decisions would those be?"

The child was suddenly stood right next to her, fingers clutching onto the side of the desk. She leaned a little over the papers Lillian was writing on. "Mom, I-"

"Fiona," Lillian sat up, voice even, "Please don't stand over me like that."

Her daughter immediately corrected her behaviour, standing straight and putting her hands to her side. "Mom?" she rose up onto her toes and back down again, unable to still herself.

"Where are your friends?" Lillian asked her. She did recall Fiona being with her friends on that particular afternoon. She could only hope there hadn't been another incident. Her daughter was often the one getting hurt by their antics. Puberty was looming over the group and threatening the harmony that had previously existed between them.

" _They're in my room_ ," Fiona hurried through her answer, "Mom..."

Lillian finally gave her daughter the undivided attention she craved, setting down the quill into the ink pot, "Yes?" she asked.

"Mom, _please_ can you listen to _everything_ I say before you give an answer..."

Lillian took a breath, crossing her brow a little, " _Okay_ ," she indicated for the child to explain herself.

"My friends are having another slumber party and I-"

The woman sighed, briefly closing her eyes.

"No, mom, _no!_ " Fiona almost shouted at her, "You said you would _listen!_ "

"I am listening," she spoke patiently, "But you know what the answer is, Fiona."

"Well, it's _your_ decision, so _you_ need to go and tell them that."

Lillian blinked at her daughter, "What do you mean?"

"I _want_ to go to the slumber party, but I can't because _you_ don't let me. But they think that _I_ don't want to go because I _never_ go. And I thought _you_ might _understand_ more than dad would, but you _still_ say no. But I _promise_ they would understand my secret, _I promise!_ "

She sighed again. It wasn't an _in_ frequent argument they had with their daughter, it was something she'd always sulked over whenever it arose. The sulking was just becoming much more prominent. "Fiona, the answer will always be no. I'm not trying to be mean, it's for your own good, darling. I'm saying no because I _love_ you," she didn't expect the child to understand, not at that age. She hoped with all her might she would gain an understanding before they sent her away.

" _Please_ , mom, just _once!_ " she jumped on the spot.

" _Fiona, the answer is no,_ " she snapped.

"You _don't_ love me," Fiona frowned, backing out of the doorway, " _It's not fair_... I _hate_ you," she ran off.

Lillian sighed, brushing away the papers that had once been so important in her mind. She leant her elbows on the desk and put her face into her hands.

Her daughter was right on one point, it _wasn't_ fair, but there wasn't much she could do about it. _Well_ , a small voice spoke in her mind, _it would be fairer to let her go and live as normally as she could_. The woman shook her head. She couldn't do that. Perhaps if she _wasn't_ a princess due to inherit a kingdom, _even so_ people that changed forms were sought out for freak shows and circuses. She wouldn't allow people to laugh at her daughter like that, even if it meant being unfair.

The queen looked out of the window, she'd never had a slumber party as a child. She understood far more the embarrassment of needing to leave parties and events early. Though, she had spent many nights giggling with her many sisters. _They_ were the vast majority of her friends as a child. Fiona didn't have any sisters. She sighed again, and it didn't look like she was going to get any brothers too. She rested her head in her hand, even if she were able to conceive a second child, they wouldn't get to spend too long together anyway, the age gap already being far too large for them to bond. Her thoughts were brought back to her daughter's departure. Her thoughts _always_ seemed to be brought back to that, every day. Lillian looked to the doorway where her child had left. What about the bonding _she_ had with her? She didn't want Fiona to go away resenting her. An idea alit in her mind.

* * *

Lillian cautiously headed down the corridor to her daughter's bedroom. She was armed with a stack of blankets and some exciting plans. She wasn't sure her daughter _deserved_ the plans she had in mind, she had been less than pleasant at dinner and had put herself to bed early without saying goodnight. Though, the subject was a raw one for the child, and of course, her night time form being an ogre lent to some negative traits being exacerbated. She couldn't hold Fiona responsible for that.

The queen hesitantly knocked upon her daughter's door. She glanced somewhat bemusedly at the Keep Out sign proudly displayed. There was no answer. She knocked again, "Fiona?"

Finally there was a voice, "What?" impatient and angry, that came from inside.

Typically, she would have chastised her child for taking such a tone with her. But, somehow she couldn't. Bonds had been broken enough already. The woman carefully entered the room. Slipping in before anyone could approach and see inside. She safely closed the door behind her.

"Fiona, dear?"

She could see the tip of one of her daughter's braids visible from under the bed. "What are you doing there?" she asked, curious. She placed the blankets onto the ground and lowered herself down until she was looking under the bed, almost face to face with her daughter.

"I'm too much of a monster to go to the slumber party," she child spoke bluntly, "And monsters are found under the bed. So... I'm under the bed."

Lillian's lips twitched into a smile, "Don't be so silly, darling. You're not a monster."

"I am."

"You're not a _true_ ogre, this isn't really you," she shook her head at her daughter. "Come out, I have a surprise for you."

"I don't want it," the child squeezed her eyes closed.

Lillian hesitated before picking herself up off of the ground. "Well, okay then. You can stay there, but I plan on having a slumber party right here." She took the blankets and began laying them out on the floor.

"A what?" Fiona's voice had turned curious.

"A _slumber party_ ," the queen clarified, "I was hoping you'd join me. But, if you don't want to, that's okay."

The child went quiet. Lillian continued setting up the blankets without pause.

"Well, what plans did you have?" she eventually asked, remaining under the bed.

Lillian had to hide a chuckle, "A maid will be bringing a food cart any moment now, I picked out our favourite candies and chocolates... marshmallows, hot cocoa. I have the _softest_ blankets. I had games planned, I hoped to borrow your hairbrush and some of your teddies," she paused, there was silence. The queen lowered herself to the ground once more, she laid down on the blankets, facing her daughter, "I could use a friend for my plans," she held out her hand.

Fiona hesitated, pouting a little.

The mother waited a little longer, trying to hide the bemusement on her face at her daughter's stubbornness. She certainly got _that_ from her father. "Alright then…" Lillian began to revoke the offer.

" _Wait-_ "

She paused, and as predicted, her daughter began to wiggle herself out from under the bed. It certainly wasn't the most lady-like action or in any way fit for a princess. But in her larger form, it was a tighter squeeze for her to fit there.

Fiona finally took her hand, it was big, almost exactly the size of Lillian's. Her eyes drifted to her daughter's face, she was smiling hesitantly, "I want to join."

Lillian brightened, "I'm glad," she squeezed her hand and Fiona's far stronger grip squeezed back.

* * *

"Mom?" Fiona's smile faded. The queen and princess had spent hours laughing together. It was past Fiona's bedtime, the child had been ecstatic about staying up late. It had made Lillian regret not making a habit of a slumber party between the two of them. The mother was finally brushing her daughter's hair. Attempting to wind her down a little, enough to go to sleep.

"Yes?" Lillian took another bush stroke, carefully dodging the child's elongated ear.

She took a breath, " _You_ see that I'm still me even when I'm like this…" Fiona hesitated, wanting to say more, but instead she sighed.

Lillian looked to the ground, slowly bringing the brush to her lap, "You're my _daughter,_ darling, of course I still love you."

"Dad doesn't."

"He _does_."

She remained unconvinced.

Lillian resumed brushing her hair, taking a moment to think, "You see, Fiona, I am your mother. I shall love you no matter what. But other people are different. Other people _won't_ love you if you're different."

"That's why other people can't see me," she observed.

"Yes, that's why we can't let others see you like this. It wouldn't be _fair_ if people didn't love you because of this. So we keep this hidden away. Your father, he loves you very much, he doesn't see you any differently in the daytime, even though he _knows_ you're like this at night. Those other people, they would see you differently forever."

The child was quiet.

"Your father… he-he is just trying to _protect_ you from them," Lillian tried to see her face, "We only want what's best for you. You may not understand now, but you will when you're older. You will be grateful that we kept this a secret for you."

"So I have to stay hiding every night forever?" her voice was sad.

"Of course not, darling, one day your true love will break the curse and then you'll never need to hide again," Lillian smiled, setting down the brush, "Won't that be wonderful?"

Fiona nodded, "And then I'll be able to go to _real_ slumber parties."

Lillian found her smile fading, "Yes, you will." _Of course_ this wasn't the _real_ thing her daughter craved. This was just a small replica of the grand expectations Fiona had in mind. _Everything_ Lillian tried to do to make up for missed opportunities fell short.

Her daughter sighed softly, "My friends get to do _everything_ they want and I have to stay by myself."

The mother's heart sunk in her chest, "When you're older-"

Lillian was interrupted by an _unexpected_ knock upon the door. Her previously sullen heart began racing. She looked wide eyed to her daughter, who was already picking herself up off the ground. The door began to slowly open without an answer. The queen shooed her away, pointing to the side of the bed obscured from view. Fiona leapt out of sight. Though, just as Lillian was about to replace her shocked expression with one of stern offence, it was her husband that scurried into the room, quickly throwing the door closed behind him.

"Lillian? I was looking for-" he looked at her and around the room, somewhat startled.

Lillian put a hand to her chest, finally able to breathe again, she looked to where her daughter was peering around the bedpost at her father.

"It's you. You should have said something, Harold, you near frightened us to death," she chastised him, smoothing out the blankets as Fiona crawled from her hiding spot back to her original place.

Though when she looked back up to meet her husband's gaze, he was confused.

"What-what's going on?" he gestured to their position on the floor, the food surrounding them.

"We're having a slumber party!" Fiona exclaimed.

"Yes, a treat for tonight," Lillian took hold of her daughter's hair ties, smoothing over her hair in her hands.

"Ah," he chuckled a little, "I see. That's wonderful, eh?"

"Yes," their child tried to supress the grin that grew on her face, "I want to do this every night."

"No staying up too late," a playful smirk teased at Harold's lips, as be began to retreat.

"We won't, daddy."

Despite what Fiona had said before, Lillian couldn't help but feel pleased with her decision. Anything that made Fiona _truly_ happy made her happy too. She wanted to arm her daughter with as many happy memories as possible, as much as that sometimes seemed impossible with the many restrictions they had. Still, Lillian had found one way to do that, a new way to bring her child joy within the safety of her own bedroom.

* * *

. . .

 _So like… I guess Fiona's childhood wasn't entirely traumatic. I hope you liked, leave a review :)_


	11. Unaccounted

Fiona looked up from the book she was reading. It was quiet. Fergus flipped the page after her sudden pause, watching her expectantly from where he was huddled against her. He was tucked under her arm, as close to her as possible, as he always was. Felicia was with her father, as _she_ always was, following him around like a shadow as he did his chores around the swamp. Two children and her husband accounted for, there was still one left.

"Where's your brother?" she spoke airily to the child next to her.

He shrugged, leaning his head against her, "He doesn't want to read."

Fiona nodded. She knew Farkle was the least fond of snuggling and story time outside of their bedtime routine, but usually she would _hear_ his alternate activities. The quiet was too suspicious.

" _Farkle?_ "

There was silence. Only Fergus tapping her drew her attention. She looked back down to the book, fighting in her mind whether to leave him be wherever he was or check on him. Untangling herself from her present child, she gave in to the anxiety that danced in her mind. Perhaps this was the miracle she'd been waiting for where her children were finally old enough to occupy their own time in a way that didn't involve screeching, or being ankle deep in something they shouldn't be.

"Farkle, what are you-" she paused as she entered her children's shared bedroom, it was seemingly empty. Confused, she turned, marching into her own bedroom, the curtain already drawn back, untouched and empty. Biting her lip, her eyes swept the house. She didn't _hear_ the door to their house open, she doubted his abilities to be _that_ quiet. She leaned down, peering under their bed, there were only the trunks of clothing and items stuffed under there as usual, no signs of a mischievous child. Returning to the children's bedroom, she crouched to check under their bed-

" _There you are!_ "

He was curled up next to the wall at the head of their bed, back to her.

"What are you doing there?" she smiled, anticipating him to roll over and proudly show her whatever had been occupying his restless mind. Though he didn't move. She heard a sniff, her brow immediately creasing, "What's wrong, honey?"

He ignored her.

"Farkle…"

" _What?_ " he was impatient.

" _Mom, look at this!_ " Fergus chirped from the doorway, the book in his hands.

"Not right now, go and read by yourself," she waved him away. He only approached, leaning to look under the bed. " _Fergus go_ ," she raised her voice at him. Shocked, he trailed away, back onto his father's armchair. Fiona swung the door closed.

It was odd that this particular child of hers was isolating himself so quietly on purpose, the anxiety didn't leave her mind. She knew better than to dismiss it as childish sulking. She laid down on the floor at the edge of the bed, facing him.

"Hey, what's going on?" she spoke softly at him.

The child only sighed, unmoving.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me," she spoke playfully at him, resting her head on her folded arm.

She watched him tense up, roughly wipe his face with his sleeve and roll onto his back. He glanced at her then looked away. She gently smiled at him, despite the distress and confusion his own troubled expression gave her. She reached out her arm, her fingers only just able to brush his shoulder. He froze up and shifted slightly away from her. His brow crossed again as he looked back to her.

"I didn't _want_ to read," he spoke simply, "I didn't _want_ to, but _Fergus_ did."

She blinked at him, feeling the apprehension at this new sense of sibling rivalry.

" _Felicia_ wanted to go with dad and she _did_ ," he continued, growing more agitated with each word, " _I_ wanted to play with you outside but _you_ wanted to _read_ with _Fergus_."

The child rolled back over, facing the wall. Fiona wordlessly watched him, the guilt washing over her. Having three children naturally meant that when they all wanted to do something different, one of them had to miss out or go second. Not that her and her husband had a system for who that _one_ was. Farkle had been loud and insistent, full of energy, she didn't particularly _want_ to have to chase them around outside. Her answer to him was no, several times. She had hoped that reading would have calmed him some, make _him_ want something different, perhaps something more _sensible_. Something less _happy_ , she now realised.

"They get to do _everything_ they want and I have to be by myself," the child mumbled.

Though quiet and unintentional, her son's words hit her - the recollection of his face when she had rejected him only worsening the blow. She almost felt herself go numb. A memory she had always regarded as beautiful lingered on her mind, back when he was a tiny baby promising him that he'd never be lonely, making the same promise to his siblings. A promise so incredibly important to her… a promise she seemingly failed to keep.

Fiona considered him for a second, realising he must have been under the bed for a while - much longer than she'd ever want him to be. The mother suddenly decided she much preferred the loud, obnoxious yelling and mischief, it was all signs of happiness. Quiet was sad and lonely, being locked in a room from sunset to sunrise, every evening alone.

" _Hey_ ," she caught his attention, voice low, "I'm sorry, sweetie. That wasn't very good of me, huh?"

His drooped ear perked up a little, he rolled onto his back. She offered her still extended arm to him.

He only eyed her gesture suspiciously, pouting at her, " _I don't want to read_ ," he mumbled at her.

"We won't," she gave him a reassuring smile.

"Really?" he was sceptical.

"Yes," she confirmed, "Now let me get you out of there," she tapped her hand against the ground, bringing his attention back to her offer. "Hold on."

He took her hand with both of his and she dragged him towards her, his frown breaking into a smile. He even gave her a laugh as she rolled away from the bed, pulling him on top of her. She sat up, holding him in her arms, kissing his head. " _There_."

Farkle shrugged her away, exaggeratedly cringing at her affection despite the lingering of a smile on his face. He sat against the bed, opposite her. She stroked his hair, brushing it out of his face. The smile on her own face faltered.

There was so much he wasn't old enough to understand. How thrilled she was to find her children would always have each other, the anxiety that followed about one of them being left out. The relief when that _one_ tended to differ based on the day or the situation. But of course – she took his hand – just because he shrugged away her affection, and at times her attention, didn't mean he didn't _need_ it no matter if the sun was up or down.

"You know," she began slowly, "when each of you _want_ something different, we can't do _everything_ , you all have to take turns." His expression turned back into the frown he had before, brow creasing, his hand limp in hers. She lightly squeezed it, " _But_ that also means that _we_ have to make sure those turns are _fair_ , right?"

He met her gaze again, remaining silent.

"You didn't want to read, but Fergus wasn't opposed to being outside. I was wrong, I'm sorry honey."

He nodded at her. His forgiveness granted.

She caressed his cheek, gazing at him. "We can go outside, you can tell your brother."

That slight smile appeared again, he began to stand before she caught him, stopping his movement. She leant closer to him, "I have one condition…" she smirked, he looked at her suspiciously, "I get a hug first."

He tried to hide the smile that grew on his lips, " _Mom,_ I don't _like_ hugs."

" _Hey_ , I don't care how much of a little _monster_ you are, I _do_ ," she held her arms out.

He relented, letting her pull him in, he buried his face into her shoulder. She held him tightly. It didn't matter what inconveniences she or the world faced, as long as her children were happy.

* * *

. . .

 _I think I've mentioned before how Farkle is the child who has the least focus in the films. A long time ago I actually counted and he's the least interacted with, spoken to and even mentioned. As rawshark and I discovered, the Donkey Christmas carol thing desperately tries to make up for this, but it's too late, DVD extra, the damage is done._

 _#justice4farkle_


	12. The Right Way

As usual Fiona gazed out of the window as she washed the dishes. However, her typical mindlessness was absent as she watched her son. Farkle was laying outside in the sun, his girlfriend draped over him. They had been rolling around laughing for quite a while. She could tell they didn't know she was watching them, just as she liked it.

"Should I tell 'em to take it elsewhere?" Shrek nudged her, chuckling.

"No," Fiona nudged him back, "Leave them be. It's sweet." They fell into silence. Her washing, handing the dripping plates to him, him drying. Both watching the young adults outside. "I really think he might marry her," Fiona finally spoke.

" _What?_ " Shrek did a double take between her and the scene before them, " _Really?_ "

"Mm," she hummed, nodding, "Look at them. Do you not think so?"

" _Well_ ," he furrowed his brow, "she's not an ogre," he spoke bluntly. Referring to the tall, pale, long-haired elf who currently had her hands on their son's cheeks, grinning at him while he spoke at her with one hand around her waist, the other making exaggerated gestures in the air beside them.

It was Fiona's turn to suddenly screw her face up in confusion, looking between them, "What do you mean?" She desperately tried to keep her voice low enough to not capture the attention of those outside. Though they lived on a swamp, they weren't surrounded by other ogres. The majority of their children's – and their – interactions were with those of a multitude of species. It never crossed Fiona's mind as a surprise when they made friends and _other relations_ with people different to them. She had always found it sweet that their mixed species family left their children in a positive way.

Her husband still watched them in silence, mouth slightly open, trying to find the words to describe his thoughts. "I just thought he'd, yanno, go away and find a good _ogre_ wife the _right_ way. Forget all'a this."

She turned to him, an eyebrow raised, "The _right_ way? Last time I checked there wasn't any _right_ way." She pushed a plate into his hands.

" _No_ \- uh I don't mean _that_. Just _normally_ ogres would have their leaving day and find another ogre out in the world…" his words faltered as he spoke, realising the invalidation of his argument.

A smile slipped onto Fiona's face, "He _did_ go away, they _all_ did. They're only back _visiting_ this week," she glanced at him, "And the fact that they're still together proves my theory," her smile faded as she watched his sceptical expression. Shrek had never elaborated on his expectations of their futures, only listened to hers. She'd always thought he agreed or just didn't have any. The corner of her lips curved upward playfully once again, " _You_ didn't do that."

The obvious flaw in his argument left a small smile on his own lips before it disappeared just as quickly. He took a breath to counter her point but she interrupted him. "Why does he have to be with an ogre?" A playful back and forth about the subject didn't seem as interesting to her as her husband's own expectations for their children.

Shrek shrugged, the ogress could tell he was desperately trying to be more nonchalant than he actually was. He gestured vaguely to their child outside, "He's always… always been so… _yanno_ …"

" _Like you?_ " Fiona provided a suggestion.

" _Uh-_ "

"Independent? Stubborn?"

" _Okay_ ," Shrek masked a chuckle, waving her off, "I always thought outta all of 'em, he would be the most drawn t'being with an ogre."

Fiona raised her eyebrows a little in surprise. It was becoming more and more evident that Shrek indeed _had_ thought about their children in the ways of the future, even if it was subconscious. "Why not the others?" she poked into his theory some more.

"Ah… I _uh_ \- they're just… yanno _nevermind_ ," Shrek clattered the dried plate into the cupboard a little harder than the others.

Fiona giggled at how she had her husband cornered. "You're an _ogres_ ogre, and you married me," she circled back to her main point, "I was a _human princess_ , and I married you."

"That was… that wasn't _normal_ circumstances. Yanno, we- _us_ , we're _different_ ," he tripped over his speech, "Besides, you're an _ogre!_ "

"I _wasn't_ ," she gave him a sly look. Sure, it had been over twenty years but she doubted he would have forgotten _that_.

Shrek heaved a sigh, " _I know_ ," he admitted his defeat, his shoulders still tense, his snatching of the spoon she handed him a little too rough.

Fiona giggled once again at his obstinance. "It's more a surprise to _me_ that he's the _first_ to find true love," she lowered her voice even more, "Because he _is_ like you."

Shrek snickered at her, patience with the conversation worn out.

The smile lingered on Fiona's lips as she transferred her gaze outside. Her expectations for their children had varied over the years but one thing that remained the same was her guess that Farkle would be the most aloof. She found she had to remind herself over and over that independence didn't equal loneliness. It was surprising how often she did have to learn the same lesson, given her own experiences. She hadn't been shocked when she learned of Farkle's relationship, back before their leaving day, but with every letter from him, and every visit over the years since, she grew more and more surprised that he continued to fawn over her.

"I'm _glad_. If she's waited this long for him, then it means he's found someone who will always be there," she spoke wistfully, "The way he talks about her, Shrek. He doesn't take anything seriously, but he does her. I still see you in him."

The ogre seemed to turn from obstinate to awkward in response to her comparison. She watched him for a moment. No matter how many thought - secretly or otherwise - that her choosing to spend her life with him and having children with him was a mistake, she adamantly thought otherwise. He passed on many wonderful traits to their children, _especially_ Farkle.

"Hey," she captured his attention, "He succeeded."

Shrek paused for a moment, looking out at the pair, a wiry smile creeping onto his lips, "Aye, he did. Which means we did _something_ right, for at least _one_ of 'em."

She nodded her agreement, "As long as they find true love and happiness, then _any_ way is the right way," she took the cloth from him, drying her hands and placed them on his chest, "Just like us." She pulled him down a little to kiss him and he didn't object, she could sense the smile that still lingered. No matter the expectations they had for their children, their happiness was truly the only thing that mattered to both of them, of that she was sure.

" _Ew you guys_ ," their son's loud voice ended their embrace, "take it elsewhere would ya!"

They broke apart, looking out the window. The pair were sitting on the ground next to each other, watching them. Farkle smirked, his girlfriend giggling at them, she waved.

"Aye alright," Shrek called back, "how about we swap and ye earn ya keep around here, hm?"

"Nope, gotta walk her home," he stood, brushing himself off, holding out a hand to help his partner, "be a _gentleman_ , just like you taught me, dad," the younger ogre paused, exaggeratedly furrowing his brow in confusion, "or _wait_ , that was _mom_." He winked at them.

Shrek waved them off, chuckling.

"Bye Renna," Fiona called out to them, waving, gaining a similar gesture from both before they turned and headed out.

Shrek leaned closer to Fiona again, lowering his voice, "Ya, see 'em at their wedding hm?"

* * *

. . .

 _Welcome new OC Renna, wow. I can never fully decide if the triplets are OCs or not. Because even though their existence is established in canon, they don't really have any personality beyond a few hints of traits. So maybe I'm doing the dreaded thing of creating an OC for another OC. Oh well! I love exploring this universe, no matter how many OCs I end up with… maybe you disagree… But I'll be back to canon characters in the next update, don't worry ;)_

 _Also, I'm normally pretty pedantic about the order of these and not grouping similar ones together. But hey, this is the next one I had ready after disappearing for a bit. That's growth._

 _Credit as always to rawshark for theorising about this one, lending me a line, and making it fit into the BNOW setup!_


	13. An Additional Clause

The king stood alone, in the dark empty room of a cottage in the woods. The Fairy Godmother had requested his immediate presence. He didn't want to excuse the ball with his wife, young daughter, and subjects to be there. But he did. He always did for her. He feared what would happen if he didn't. His eyes trailed out to the night sky, stars twinkling. The ball would likely be ending soon. Young children were present. It had been much a celebration for their daughter. Fiona had been allowed to stay up late, being the small guest of honour. Though, Harold knew she would be due her late bedtime soon. Lillian hadn't been happy about him leaving, Fiona loved parties and it would be difficult to get her to leave in a graceful manner. His wife would have to do it alone if he didn't return quickly. But Harold couldn't know how long the meeting would take, he never typically knew what to expect of them, however this time, he feared he knew exactly why it had been called. For the ball was a particularly important event for him and the Fairy Godmother, and them alone.

Finally, the door swung open and she entered. The long, hooded cape not quite touching the ground, and yet no feet were present.

He smiled uneasily at her, "Fairy Godmother, ah, it's good to see you again."

She threw the cape aside, scowling at him, "Cut the pleasantries, Harold," she placed her hands on her hips, "Their meeting did _not_ go as promised."

The king shrugged anxiously, "They're _children_ , Fairy Godmother, _young_ children at that. We can't expect them to fall in love in an instant. Fiona is _six_. That's not _possible_ ," he stumbled over his words.

She looked at him, a distasteful glare spread over her face, " _Yes_ ," she begrudgingly agreed with his statements, "But I would have at least expected a little better than that. Let's recall what happened, shall we?" she asked him coolly.

"Uh... that's not _completely_ necessary."

"Oh but I insist. My son bowed at her, took her hand, like a gentleman, a _perfect_ prince, _kissed_ her hand. Your _daughter_ , scrunched her nose and wiped her hand on her dress. Does she not know protocol, Harold? Whoever has been training her?" she spoke accusingly.

"She's _six_ , Fairy Godmother," the king repeated his point from before, "Fiona is doing as well as any child should."

"My son was perfectly poised and proper at age six, your daughter is the heir to the throne…"

"Well, heir until we have a second, _a boy_ ," Harold interjected.

" _Yes_ , until you can produce a _boy_ ," she spoke condescendingly at him, "Until _then_ , she _is_ your _heir_."

"I-I know," he spoke defeatedly.

Her features softened, "My son asked your daughter to dance and she refused. However, she danced with a different boy, the son of a duke of _nowhere_ ," the softness didn't last long.

"I'm _sorry_ about that. I'm _sure_ she will change her mind once she is older. Your boy, _Charming_ , is-is wonderful. A _perfect_ suitor. I'm sure she will choose him."

" _Excuse me?_ " the godmother's eyes grew wide, his words seeming to ignite something terrible inside of her.

"Uh..." Harold hesitated, "Pardon?"

" _Suitor?_ " she spoke the word as if it repulsed her, "My boy is not just a _suitor_ for your daughter, he is her _future husband_. Harold, we have a deal," she reminded him carefully.

"Y-yes, we do. And he will be, she will choose him," he tried to reassure her.

"Choice? Harold, _choice_ is not the guarantee you promised me."

The rock grew in the pit of his stomach, "That was a _long_ time ago, Fairy Godmother, many years before she was even born," he recalled his selfishness, "I wasn't a father, I couldn't possibly know how this would be... in... reality."

"Oh?" it was an invitation for him to continue talking... a dangerous one. He was sure she was giving him an opportunity to go back on what he said, but he _couldn't_. He had promised his wife, and more importantly promised himself that he would stand his ground no matter the consequences.

"Lillian doesn't want us to pick a husband for her, Lillian wants her to choose," Harold hurried his explanation. It wasn't the first time he'd hidden behind his wife in situations regarding Fiona and he doubted it would be the last.

"That's interesting," the fairy nodded, "Not very _traditional_."

"No- I know, I protested, _I did_ ," he could feel his courage slipping away. He took a breath, renewing the promise with himself, "But Lillian insists, and... and I _agree_. Fiona shouldn't be forced. Your son, _Charming_ , should not be forced either. We want our children to be happy, I'm sure," he nodded, exaggeratedly, at her.

She did not share his enthusiasm for the idea. She stared at him, mouth sewn in a firm line, almost as if she was staring through him. He waited in silence, clasping his trembling hands together. "Mm," she finally made a noise in reaction. Her gaze suddenly met his. "I suppose you want my son to _win_ her hand... _fight_ for her love."

Harold breathed his relief, "Yes! Precisely! That would be wonderful for them, wouldn't you say?"

"But he would be fighting amongst _others_ for her hand," the godmother clarified, "Fiona is beautiful, Harold, you know many will want her."

"If Charming is as perfect then as he is now, I have _confidence_ he will win," Harold smiled at her awkwardly. Trying his best to remain upbeat.

"He _will_ win," she smiled knowingly, "The others will fail."

"Yes, of course!" the king nodded, "They just have… _hm_ seemingly _equal_ chance. That's all."

"Of course, equal chance to fight for her," she paused, almost to consider the situation, "To fight for her love, her _beauty_ even."

"Yes, Fairy Godmother," the king let the relief wash over him, he allowed a glance to the window once again. It seemed he _would_ be back in time to see the end of the ball. He could also return with confidence that he did the _right_ thing. The Fairy Godmother had so much control over him, he wasn't sure he could take any more, especially with that control affecting his precious daughter, "I'm _so_ grateful for your understanding here. Lillian will be pleased."

"Lillian doesn't know the details of our deal," her voice was flat.

"No... no you're quite right. But I don't have to resist her decisions about our Fiona, and she will be _pleased_ about that."

"I'm glad we could come to an understanding too, Harold," there was a strange twinkle in her eye. Though she brushed it off flippantly, "Anyway, I have to go. It's late, the sun has set, I must take my son home, he's up late. And Fiona... She'll want to be tucked into bed," she nodded at him, a curt smile sitting on her lips.

"Yes, I wish you and Charming a good night."

"And I wish your family a memorable evening, Harold."

* * *

. . .

 _Fiona being cursed and locked away seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to for an arranged marriage. So I figure it wasn't the first plan. This is my theory on why the curse even happened in the first place._

 _Hope you liked! Please leave a review!_

 _(Special thanks to everyone who's recently favourited this! There's been so many, wow! Thank you so much!)_


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